


Stuck With A Spiderling

by WriterReadsStuff



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Baby Peter Parker, Domestic Avengers, Family Dynamics, Friends to family, GIVE IT TIME, Gen, He’s three, Kid Peter Parker, May and Ben are both dead, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Natasha Romanov, Sorry May, The Avengers don’t read the fine print either, Toddler Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, or they will, they all love him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 19,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22104592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterReadsStuff/pseuds/WriterReadsStuff
Summary: “Tony...” Pepper sighed, patting her fiancée on the back as she sat down next to him. “You may be the smartest man on earth, but you and your friends are all idiots.”-Or, the Avengers find out the hard way why you should always read the terms and conditions.
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Peter Parker, Clint Barton & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Sam Wilson, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Vision, Wanda Maximoff & Peter Parker
Comments: 221
Kudos: 851





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thank you so much for reading! This story will screw over the timeline a lot, but it’s all in the name of creating a stable plot. Tooth-rotting fluff and family dynamics await. Oh, and a spider-toddler. I’d like to credit dantedeletes on tumblr with the title, too! Comments and kudos are much appreciated, and I hope you love reading this story as much as I love writing it!

**Sign below to indicate that you have read the above paragraph and are willing to accept all responsibility necessary in the event of the Avengers Initiative being utilized to minimize future potential threats, as elaborated upon per Section 48c of Page 1256:**   


Well, perhaps they had asked for this when they didn’t read the paragraph. But who could blame any of them? It wasn’t like there was much point in having paid attention to the five-thousand pages of hypotheticals and theoreticals either. It hadn’t seemed necessary at the time. 

Well, apparently it was a lot more necessary than anyone had planned on it being.

Some group home in Queens had reported to an agent that one of their charges had recently begun exhibiting some... strange behaviors. Not the “he’s been throwing more tantrums than usual” types of behaviors, oh no, life could never be that easy. More of the “we found him crawling around on the ceiling” type.

And, after the little brat was given a thorough medical examination, it was decided that the child should no longer to be allowed to stay at the home. They could only assume that the wrong environment and a lack of proper training would churn out a very traumatized adult, or- god forbid- teenager, attempting to destroy the universe. It would be like Loki all over again... if Loki was half-spider and had a genius level IQ before he even attended kindergarten. Oh, yeah, and the kid’s little brain decided to react to the mutation by jumping his IQ by a few hundred points.

God, this was a nightmare.

Not to mention the way SHEILD had decided to handle the mini-mutant. Section 48c of page 1256 in the Avengers Initiative contacts were dedicated to this very moment, after all. Immediate relocation to the current main base for the Avengers Team, mandatory training until the age of majority, and a day-of press conference were already being arranged. 

Still, Stark was calling his lawyers. Not that there was much they could do, the contract was perfect. It all was. If only Tony had thought to have his lawyers look over the contract before the whole team signed off without a second glance.

“You’re being dramatic.” Fury relented, leading the group of heroes into the lobby of the apartment building. They were all angry, contrary to their typical happy-go-lucky personas, and dragging their feet behind them as they treaded into the elevator. “Well, we aren’t exactly thrilled with the situation, mad eye.” Tony sneered, rolling his eyes is his usual manner.

The elevator dinged, and the group’s hearts dropped a little as the doors opened up for them. The halls were empty, thank goodness, but were a clear enough sign of the state of the apartment complex itself. Each wall was littered with water stains, cracks, and cobwebs. It felt like a scene out of a horror movie. 

They walked through the dingy area, following Fury as they each glanced around in slight agitation. “Here we are.” Fury said, knocking gently on the wooden door, “Apartment 47B.”

A kind looking woman answered the door, holding a toddler-aged little girl with blonde braids on either side of her head on her hip. Behind her, a living space was filled with children, no two looking the same, all playing amongst themselves and paying no mind to the guests.

“Oh!” She gasped, “We figured there was still a few minutes until you all arrived.” She stepped back, gesturing for the band of heroes to come inside. “Please, please, come on in. We aren’t exactly in the cleanest state right now, but the kids have been all excited today, what with the new faces around and all.”

The woman was petite, had gentle facial features, and there was long strands of wavy, dirty blonde hair flowing down her back and over either shoulder. She was dressed in a green tee shirt and black leggings, accompanied by a pair of white sneakers with stains covering them. The group looked at one another, wondering who was going to step up and address the elephant in the room, though Fury seemed unphased as he had been in and out of the apartment all day.

Finally, Natasha took the lead on the situation. “And you are?” She asked, stepping in front of her teammates. “Oh, you’ll have to forgive me. Where are my manners?” The young woman asked herself, chuckling slightly as she feigned clutching pearls. “I’m Olivia Burnes, Peter’s foster mom.”

Olivia held her free hand out, shaking each of their hands gently. Before any of them could speak, two SHIELD agents exited one of the rooms, murmuring to eachother as one carried a small glass case. Inside of it was a large spider, greenish with bits of blood dripping out from its mouth. 

It was dead

When they saw the others, the pair paused, before the woman carrying the spider walked over to Fury, whispering something into his ear. After a few shushed moments of quiet whispering, she turned around, beckoning her partner to follow her out of the apartment.

_Well_, Steve thought, _at least they found the culprit_.

“Ah, yes.” Vision tutted, regaining his artificial voice as the other’s struggled to forget about the strange agents. “And where is the boy?” 

Olivia smiled, sighed, and looked upwards to the stained celling. Following her example, the team did so as well. And there, much to their surprise, they found it.

The kid. On the celling. Crashing two Star Wars action figures against one another in a childish example of a fight scene.

“Hi.” Tony greeted, waving up at the mini-human. The boy looked up- or, rather, down- and smiled, waving his chubby hand (and accidentally dropping his Kylo Ren figure in the process, which quickly hit Bucky in the eye). “You gonna come down here and meet the people, Pete?” Olivia asked, using an overly cheery tone of voice as she spoke to the child.

On cue, the boy dropped from the celling, falling onto his back with a harsh thud. He stared up for a moment, drew in a quick breath, and stood, turning around to hide behind Olivia’s leg in a showcase of his shyness.

Olivia turned around, calling out to a pre-teen aged boy. “Milo, can you grab Petey’s bag from the toddler room? He’s the bed with the race car pattern, look for blue luggage.”

At her request, the boy in question ran off through a back door, nodding assuringly as he went to complete the task.

“Where I go?” Peter asked no one in particular, pointing to where Milo had just left. Like many children in the system, he knew what it meant when someone grabbed your bags and there were strangers in the apartment.

“Alright, Peter.” Bucky said, bending down to the kid’s height, bracing himself, “You’re gonna come and stay with us for a little while, that good with you?”

Peter looked up at his foster mother, cocking his eyebrow in an inquisitive expression. “No ‘livia no more?” He asked, changing the position of his hand so he was now pointing to her. “I’m sorry, baby.” She said, softly, “It’s for the best. They’re with the nice man that came by earlier and gave you the sucker, remember him? They just want to keep you safe, ‘cause you’re different.” They could tell that the woman only wanted the boy to understand.

Peter, however, could not be further from understanding. “Come back when not diff’ent?” He asked. “No, sweetie. I’m sorry.” She said, “You’ll understand when you’re a bit bigger, ok?” “How much bigger?” Peter questioned, tilting his little head to the left, allowing a cascade of caramel brown curls to cover his eyes sweet eyes. Olivia only laughed, before grabbing the boy’s coat and ordering him to get dressed.

When he showed no trouble getting on the piece of outerwear, Olivia smiled. “Alright, kids!” She shouted to the small army in the living space. “Everybody say goodbye to Peter!” The kids did so, each letting out a screech of “bye-bye!” Or “bye, Petey!”.

And then they were out the door.


	2. A Second In The Spotlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s no time to be scared, you just have to get through this and then you’ll be used to it. Okay?”

The press conference was _not_ going well.

A couple agents had stopped by to get Peter dressed appropriately, as the toddler’s tee shirt and sweatpants were not deemed worthy of such a formal event, let alone his hole ridden shoes and messy hair.

No, special care had been taken to immaculately reform the small child’s appearance until he looked as though he could be mistaken for a miniature version of a certain genius-playboy-billionaire-philanthropist.

The hair, however, had proven far too difficult and was eventually abandoned, as the unruly curls refused to take hold under the pressure of the gel and heating tools. They were simply too independent.

Most of the adults had agreed that the new clothing was fitting. Peter was expected to live the entirety of his life under intense public scrutiny, so they couldn’t accept anything less than the absolute best for his introduction unto the world he would one day protect.

The child in question had some other opinions.  
  
Peter was fidgeting with his new outfit relentlessly, fussing and crying over the slim fit and well-tailored clothing as the little boy whined underneath his breath. “No, Peter.” Steve reminded over and over again, “Don’t pull on it.”

But did the toddler simply cease his messing around and relax? Hell no. Rather, the boy released his hold on the baby blue polo with a vigorous anger, and slapped Steve on his thigh. Hard.

The man yelped, jumping back in pain as he grabbed the reddened spot. _Holy mother Mary_, he thought, _that kid’s strong_. 

At that moment, Natasha came over, gripping the boy’s arm as she dragged him away from his injured victim. “What are you doing?” She asked, not really expecting any answer out of him, “You shouldn’t hit people that didn’t hit you first. Do you want to start this affair on my bad side, kid?” 

Peter shook his head, those big eyes going wide as they welled up with tears. “Well then,” Natasha began, “don’t cry. Let’s leave that behind us. Don’t do it again.”

She began to tug the child along, before stopping outside of the deep, navy curtains that blocked the backstage area off from the main room. The rest of the group had already lines up while she reprimanded the ward, so it was easy to get into a decent space, though she took it upon herself to guide the boy in. 

“We take pitcher?” Peter asked, confused by the sounds of snapping cameras from the reporters, who were probably bored out of their minds as Tony spoke through the basics of the contract agreement that led them here. 

“Yeah, kid. They’re taking pictures. These people are all real excited to see you.” Bucky said, rubbing the boy’s shoulders to calm him down. “Oh.” Peter reacted.

From the speakers, they could all hear Tony speaking. The billionaire had been droning on with the scripted introduction (SHIELD had demanded he stick to the script, or risk losing his job) for nearly an hour, leading the reporters to grow ancy and lethargic as they waited to see the star of the show. 

Also known as a three-year-old, mutant, extremely dangerous child who could probably quite easily wipe out the fully grown adults around him if he so desired.

From above, Tony’s voice loomed once more, as the assistants began to peel back the curtains so Steve could lead the group through. “And now, I’d like to welcome my fellow Avengers to the stage, along with our special guest, Peter Parker.”

As he entered the stage, the child realized what all the fuss had been about.

Thousands of reporters lined the venue, shouting things at the stage- no, shouting things at _him_.

They were loud, so loud when their voices were amplified by his advanced hearing that the toddler could feel his ears begin to swallow themselves whole.

His tiny chest clenched, as he hastily pulled on the sleeve of Natasha’s blazer, attempting to hide behind her as he had done earlier that same day to his foster mother.

Looking a bit worried for Peter herself, Natasha softly whispered into the boy’s ear, “You’ll be alright, go see Buck.”, gesturing for Peter to go over to her fellow russian assassin. 

Not daring to question, the boy did as he was told, and switched his tiny body around so that he was now facing Bucky’s left side, at the perfect angle for sleeve-pulling. 

The reporters grew louder, shouting and screaming at Peter, flashing their bright lights and cameras towards him without a second thought. They continued, until finally... 

“Excuse me!”

There, grabbing a hold of the microphone, was Natasha, quieting the room of vultures with those two simple words. Her face denied nonsense, demanding clear attention. “Let’s be civil.” She said, calmer, before turning on her heels to bend down to the boy’s level and whisper again in his ear.

“There’s no time to be scared, you just have to get through this and then you’ll be used to it. Okay?” Peter was, most definitely, not okay with that, which was made as clear as the daylight sky when he viciously shook his head at the request.

In an attempt to quell the boy before they drew attention to themselves, Natasha rested a hand on his shoulder, allowing Peter a moment to collect himself before guiding him over to the podium, where he was lifted to stand atop a step stool.

“You good?” She checked one last time. “No.” The boy said, with pleading eyes and a heartstruck face. But, quickly, he shook it off to mutter back, “I be nice now, thank you.”

So polite.

All at once, the questions commenced, each interviewer attempting to get information out of the boy, but also realizing that he was too young to be worth much in that scheme of things. No, he was something better. He was _cute_.

“Are you excited to get to be an Avenger when you grow up?” “A what?”

“What’s your favorite color?” “Blue!”

“Do you like your new guardians?” “Liked old ‘partment, but is nice. Mr. Bucky gave Pe’er new shirt.”

“How old are you?” “Dis many!”

“When did you get your abilities?” “Mean spider made hand hurt and I got sicky.”

“Who’s your favorite superhero?” “S’ar Wars.”

  
By the end, they had all gotten a taste of the buzz-worthy toothy smile and untamed curly locks. Twitter was ablaze with the announcement, and had the hashtags #MeanSpider and #MisterBucky trending from the moment they left the boy’s mouth.

If SHIELD hadn’t been sure of their decision before, they sure as hell were now. The kid was a gold mine for PR.

“Alright, Peter.” Wanda said, grasping the toddler’s hand as she led him off the stage and through the building, “Let’s get you where you need to be.”

“Home?”

“Sure. Let’s call it that for now.”


	3. By The Third Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter knew that he was just trying to make a bad thing look good, as all of the grownups could tell that he was no happier about this than they were. No matter how much they smiled, they hated him. They hated that they were stuck with taking care of him all because he was different. So, he didn’t react, and tuned back in to the gentle hun of his own thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are soooooo appreciated. I’m very happy with this chapter, too, so I can’t wait to see how you guys respond!

As Peter sat in his new, designer car seat, he thought deeply over the events that had brought him into these strangers’ car.

_Mama and Dada were playing the fighting game again, and had told their son to play with his toys in the living room while they played with each other. He didn’t entirely understand why he couldn’t play with them, as they always seemed really tired after the fact, but he wasn’t overly upset. He knew they needed to play the fighting game or else they wouldn’t be very good when they had to fight the bad people. Tomorrow, they’d fight the bad people again._

_He wasn’t happy about staying with his Auntie May and Unca Benny for a whole week, but he was okay with it. Whenever Mama and Dada came back from fighting bad people, they’d bring him ice cream and, sometimes, a gift from the place where they fought the bad people. Mama called them “soo-ven-eers”. Often, the presents would be things they took from the bad people, but he wasn’t allowed to play with those ones. They were for looking at, and were not toys._

_“Baby?” Dada asked, coming into the living room with a yucky towel around his neck. “You doing good while Mama and Dada spar?” “Uh huh!” Peter shouted in return, moving his attention over. In his confusion, the boy two-year-old dropped his favorite toy, Olivia the stuffed gecko. Dada, however, picked her back up, as he placed the toy in his son’s lap, taking the moment as a chance to look into the boy’s eyes._

_Peter hadn’t known it at the time, but that would be the last time his Dada looked into his eyes at all._

“Peter?” Mister Stark asked him, shaking the boy’s arm from where he sat next to him. “Is something wrong?” At hearing the man’s concern’s Miss Natasha- Peter was pretty sire she wasn’t married- turned from her spot in the passenger’s seat of the limousine.

“Is he still upset?” She asked Mister Stark. Peter hated it when grownups asked questions about him to other grownups, as if he wasn’t a big boy that was capable of answering all by himself. It made him want to hurt them the way they were hurting him, just to see how they like it.

“No.” Mister Stark said, “He’s just a bit off. Can’t stop staring out the window, you’d think the kid had never seen the outdoors before.” The grownups all laughed, but Peter only looked around, confused.

He waited a moment, expecting someone to explain why they were laughing at him. Clearly, he’d done something to deserve it. When none of them seemed to notice his expression, the boy turned back to the window, allowing his mind to wander once more.

_Auntie May held Peter tight, despite the little boy’s protests. _

_There, in the funny box in front of him, lay his Mama and Dada. They were sleeping, but Unca Benny said that they weren’t gonna wake up. The bad people had won, they hadn’t played the fighting game enough to be ready for the real thing._

_Now, he was going to live with his Auntie and Unca forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and- he was very angry. Mama and Dada said it would only be for a week, not a second longer. He wouldn’t even miss them, they said. But Mama and Dada had lied, it wasn’t just for a week, and he did miss them very much. They lied to their baby, and now he wasn’t ever going to make it home._

_The really mean people took everything from their house. Everything. Even Olivia, and all of Peter’s other toys. He was the only thing Mama and Dada had on their special piece of paper that said where they wanted special things to go if they ever let the bad people win. Just him, nothing else._

“Peter!”

Another shout disturbed him from his memories, so clear and loud that Peter could only assume the voice had been calling him for a while now. “Honey,” Mister Rogers said, “can you please talk to us? We wanna have a conversation.”

Peter hummed, basking in the attention he was getting for the moment, but knowing it was just their way of making him like them. His Auntie and Unca had done the same thing, and so had Olivia. Still, they were grownups, so the boy understood that making him like them was very important. It seemed to have something to do with the lady in the blue dress.

“Sowwy, I was thinkin’ ‘bout it.” He replied, hating the way his voice lisped over the words. After the mean spider made his hand hurt, he’d been learning a lot of things. Still, he couldn’t do much with all of the information, because his little voice couldn’t pronounce half of the things he thought.

Mister Rogers grasped his hand, squeezing it gently as he held the limb in place, latching his appendages around the boy’s own. “Worried about the new place? It’s alright, you’ll like it. We have a pool, and a gym. I bet we can get those places all decked out for you, huh? And your room should be finished soon, it’s gonna be right next to mine, I hear SHIELD’s had people in there all day trying to make it look perfect.”

Peter knew that he was just trying to make a bad thing look good, as all of the grownups could tell that he was no happier about this than they were. No matter how much they smiled, they hated him. They hated that they were stuck with taking care of him all because he was different. So, he didn’t react, and tuned back in to the gentle hun of his own thoughts.

_He thought that Auntie May and Unca Benny were gonna keep him forever. That’s what the nice lady with the pretty blue dress had said. His Auntie and Unca were gonna keep him until he was big and strong, and then he’d have kids of his own and wouldn’t need them anymore._

_Peter was beginning to realize that grownups lied a lot._

_No, he wasn’t gonna live with his Auntie and Unca forever. They couldn’t pay for him, they said. Little boys were very “ex-pin-seeve”, or so said Unca Benny. He hated to eavesdrop, Mama and Dada had always gotten on him for being so nosy, but he couldn’t help it! They were talking about him!_

_Unca Benny wanted to send him away, far far away to a whole other place where they wouldn’t get to keep him anymore. Somewhere with a new Mama and Dada that wasn’t his, but had more money than Auntie May and Unca Benny did. They were gonna call the lady with the blue dress, and she was gonna take him away from them forever and ever and ever._

_He cried himself to sleep that night, and bu morning he was getting put into a strange lady with his old toy’s name’s car._

“We’re almost there, Peter. Don’t fall asleep on us.” Miss Wanda said, shaking him around in a desperate attempt to keep the boy from turning this all into a glorified napping session.

She failed, as Peter felt his eyes grow heavier from the rocking motion, combined with the insanely comfortable car seat. Soon, his thinking was replaced by dreams. Soft, cozy dreams that mirrored his memories in gentle pastels, despite the nasty tales they told his mind.

_He hated his new home._

_The lady was nice, Olivia, but the kids were pushy and sad. He wasn’t used to so many kids living in one little apartment, nor was he used to sharing every toy with thirteen other kids. The bigger kids were always fighting, too._

_Some of the kids were nice, the ones that were just Peter’s age. Like Thalia, Ryland, Avery, Lucas, and Valerie. Valerie had pretty blonde hair, and made sure it was always put in braids or else she would cry. Peter didn’t know why she got so upset, but he was happy that she was passionate about something._

_It made the newly three-year-old very sad that he had a new Olivia that was a person and not a gecko, but he was willing to hug her if she was willing to accept his hugs. Auntie May and Unca Benny had made him go bye-bye, so he would rather be with her anyway. She pinky promised that she wouldn’t give him to someone with more money than her._

_Still, Peter couldn’t help but wonder if that was another grownup lie._

As Peter was so rudely awoken by Mister Bucky snapping in front of his face, he felt the ground shift into the gentle movement of a paved driveway. He looked up, only to find the bright light of the sun had dimmed in their journey to a brisk dark sky, far darker than he usually woke up from a nap to.

The car began to pull into a big building. Ahead, Peter could see a giant A (he was reading at a 7th grade level, so he knew what an A was), and a beautiful landscape. It looked like a castle from a fairytale, but more modern and sleek.


	4. Come Forth, Dear Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There, in his grabby little hands, was a stuffed bunny. Whitish and brownish, it had the biggest feet Tony had ever seen. Still, Peter seemed to be happy with it, and a placated child was really all the man needed at the moment, so he didn’t comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to preface this chapter by apolizing for the delay. I haven’t had a lot of energy to write things lately, and my time has been cut short as I get closer to Speech Team series, so this chapter took forever. I realize there is no excuse for spending nearly two weeks on a 1k word chapter. As I’ve said, comments and kudos fuel my very being and encourage me a lot. Thank you for your continued support of this series, all of you.

No one person could stand the whining any longer.

As they dragged the little one into the tower, Peter kicked and cried over not getting to take his new car seat with him. If Tony had learned one thing from this experience, it was that children have absolutely no brain.

From across the lobby, Tony heard Pepper squeal, and caught his dear wife running over with a crazy expression written all over her face. “You must be Peter!” She said, reaching her hand out towards the boy. Peter ceased his fussing for the moment, taking the moment as a chance to observe the new person.

“Mhm.” He mumbled in return, smiling slightly as he admired the red hair and womanly features. “Is very nice to meet you. You got pwetty house.” “Awwww.” Pepper cooed, “That’s very kind of you to say, Peter. I can tell that you’re a very nice boy. Would you like a tour?”

-

“I don’ wan’ ‘nana! No!” Peter yelled, kicking and screaming as Natasha tried her best to give the child a banana, to which he greatly denied. Apparently, the kid had some personal vendetta with bananas. “Peter,” Tony pleaded, “just say no thank you. Don’t throw a fit when things don’t go your way.”

Peter, ever the polite child, turned in the man’s direction. “I sowwy, Misser Stark. You take now.” He said, grabbing the banana from Natasha’s hand and giving it over to the large man. Well, that’s a start, Tony thought.

The grand tour of Avengers Tower (previously Stark Tower, as Tony had emphasized, hoping that would impress the little boy before him. It didn’t.) was going about as well as a wedding with a drunk officiant. 

That is to say, horribly terrible in every way.

Peter was fussing up a storm, his tiredness taking a toll on the usual happy nature the team had been told about by literally everyone who had met the boy before. Supposedly, he was an angel. Well, apparently not when exhausted and hungry for a bite to eat.

They’d only stopped by the kitchen a few minutes ago, but had quickly decided that the kid’s incessant screaming of “Snack! Snack now! Snack!” was probably a sign that he wanted a snack. Thus, they were brought to the banana debacle. Preceded by the peanut butter debacle, the sandwich debacle, and the soda debacle, believe it or not. Peter was clearly quite the picky eater.

“How about a graham cracker?” Clint tried, holding one out in front of Peter’s face. The boy stared at it for a moment, thinking, before smiling and taking it. “Thank you.” He chirped, crudely shoving the snack into his tiny, slobbery mouth. The other looked at Clint for a moment, before realizing that he was, in fact, the most qualified person in the room to pick a snack for a literal three-year-old.

Who knew having a dad on the team would be so useful?

Still, Peter was, notably, not Clint’s child, and even he felt a twinge of distaste when the kid acted like a brat. It wasn’t like they had any choice in the matter, so why did they get stuck dealing with a mini-mutant? “Am done now, sir.” Peter whispered, glancing at his own empty hands with amazement.

“Alright then, Peter. Are you going to behave for the rest of the tour or do you need to go to bed now?” Natasha queried, stoic as usual. Peter looked at her with shock, completely missing that she was trying to be on his level, and responded “I’m notta baby. Am fine. We go on trip now, please.”

The tour continued, then. Halfway through, Peter tiny thumb had found its way back into his mouth, and the boy had thrown a true toddler tantrum when Clint asked him to remove it. Other than that one mishap, though, everything was going quite smoothly, rarely drawing so much as a peep from the child.

And then the came to Peter’s brand new bedroom.

The space was mostly void of color, despite the occasional piece of blue or green. In the corner was a wooden crib, perfectly chosen for Peter’s exact body measurements, courtesy of SHIELD. A few starter toys lay on the ground, littering the area where a plush, white play rug sat. Brightly colored letters on one of the walls spelled out “Future Avenger”, accompanied by some art pieces that were expensive enough to make sense with the theming, but not nearly as valuable as the many Picassos in the hallway just outside.

Peter let out a soft “woah” as he ran from Tony’s tight grip, going over to the toys on the ground. Curious, the adults walked in and looked over the boy’s shoulder, peeking to see what he was so enthralled by.

There, in his grabby little hands, was a stuffed bunny. Whitish and brownish, it had the biggest feet Tony had ever seen. Still, Peter seemed to be happy with it, and a placated child was really all the man needed at the moment, so he didn’t comment.

“Hi!” Peter said, using a strange voice that was even higher in pitch than his normal tone. The boy held the toy up in Tony’s face, wiggling it about. “My name’s Do’o’thy!” “Dorothy.” Tony corrected, realizing that the child was attempting to personify his new toy. “Do’o’thy.” Peter tried again, looking very focused on the word.

Realizing he was still wrong, Peter tried again. “Do’o’thy. Do’o’thy Do’o’thy.” He repeated, desperately attempting to please the room. “No, Peter. Dorothy.” Pepper said, exaggerating the word with her mouth. “Door-oh-thee.” She said once more.

Peter smiled, and repeated after her, “Do’o’thy”

Chuckling, Pepper shook her head, and guided the boy over to the dresser. “I’ll get him changed.” She declared, gesturing for the band of heroes to exit the room. “I’m sure he’s had enough of you all.”

As the room emptied, the woman peeled the boy’s clothes off of him, and searched the closet for anything of interest. She found a cute little set of footie pajamas, proclaiming “Big Boy” across the front, and set to work dressing the child.

Peter didn’t complain, rather letting Pepper do as she pleased as he began to grow limp in her arms. The poor thing hadn’t gotten a full nap, and his big day had seemingly utterly tired him out.

As Pepper tucked him in, she ran her hand once through the mountain of curls atop the boy’s head and hummed, hearing nothing other than the gentle snores from beneath her.


	5. Take The Fifth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, naturally, he did what all little boys so when they’re scared.
> 
> He cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to keep up with the series, my tumblr is @badmcuposts, and I post updates over there. Any and all comments/kudos are much appreciated!

Peter woke up to a loud noise from above him.

It sounded like a voice, but his tiny brain couldn’t quite make out what was being said. In his vast fear of the unknown, the toddler looked frantically around the room for another person, only to discover he was alone... and the voice was still talking. So, naturally, he did what all little boys so when they’re scared.

He cried.

He cried, and cried, and cried until he couldn’t quite cry any longer. His big eyes turned red as thick, salty tears flooded through their path down his cheeks. He didn’t know where he was for sure, but he remembered going away with a group of scary people he had seen on TV a few times. There was a... a... a... a... a lady. A lady with pretty red hair that put him to bed last night. He was in a crib, despite being way too big for a baby bed, and there was a lady somewhere in this big place that was nice and could save him from the ominous voice.

Peter began to scream, his fear and desperation combining to take hold of his vocal chords and assault the room with endless noise. He feared nobody could hear him, that the largeness of the building would drown out the sound of his terror, and he would be left alone for hours.

In steed of his panic, he was abruptly cut off by the quite welcome sound of the nice lady- Pepper! Her name was Pepper! Like Blue’s Clues!- calling out to him.

-

“Sweetheart, sweetheart it’s alright. You don’t need to cry. It’s okay.” Pepper cooed, rubbing the boy’s back in a desperate attempt to cease his tears. He must have been woken up by FRIDAY, which was no doubt quite a scare. Maybe she should have instructed the others to introduce her to the new recruit a little sooner, maybe the night prior would have been a better time. 

Still, there was no time to dwell on that now, as Peter was absolutely distraught in his waking moments and needed a good few minutes of calm and quiet. Perhaps that was why FRIDAY had alerted her to the child’s upset and not one of Peter’s actual, legally obligated guardians. They would probably be to rough with him, especially considering their predisposed discomfort around the boy.

“Here, buddy, let’s ease up, okay? Alright, there we go. See? All better!” She chirped, tickling Peter’s sides a little to get his spirits up. The toddler finally smiled, giggling a tiny bit as he looked the woman in the eyes, his own being nearly completely hidden beneath the clear flow of chocolate curls that tan down his face from the boy’s morning case of bed head. “Did FRIDAY wake you up, Peter?” She questioned.

He respond with a sharp “Mhm” before burying his head in her shoulder, not caring nor noticing that he was wrinkling the woman’s expensive office blouse. She supposed he was below the age range where the concept of situational clothing made much sense, genius IQ or not, so there wasn’t much blame to be put on the poor boy.

Lifting the little one off of the bed, she began to gently speak. “Now, Peter, this is FRIDAY. Say hi, Fri!” “Hello, Peter, my humblest apologies for disrupting your calm.” FRIDAY responded, greeting Peter in the cheeriest and most child-friendly voice that the AI could possibly muster up. 

“‘Lo.” Peter echoed, allowing his thumb to graze the open space between his slightly parted lips, “I’m Pe’er.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Peter. Would you like for me to give you a summary of the activities that have been planned for today, or would you prefer I update you on your schedule periodically from here on forward?” She asked, a characteristic greeting for such a revolutionary creation.

“I gots stuff to do?” Peter queried, cocking his little head to the side in confusion. “Yes, Peter. You’re plans for the day include the following: an 8:30 a.m. breakfast session, a 9:30 a.m. training session, a 12:00 p.m. group lunch, a 3 o’clock interview with Vanity Fair, a 4:30 p.m. training session, dinner at 6:30 p.m., and straight to bed following that.”

Peter gasped, and looked up to Pepper, awkwardly sucking on his thumb. FRIDAY continued, “You will also have tutoring throughout the day, but that particular event cannot be accurately timed due to Boss’ frequent inability to abide by schedules. You should expect him to find oddball times in order to fit the quota for today.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit overboard, Fri?” Pepper asked, “I thought the agreement with SHIELD was that Peter’s schedules would be approved by a child psychologist before they were sent to you.” “Yes, Mrs. Boss, they have been. A SHIELD employee just happens to be a child psychologist, and he will be overseeing Peter’s schedules as he sees fit.”

Pepper chuckled, “Yeah, okay. Sounds about like SHIELD.” She began to walk away from her spot by Peter’s crib, depositing the boy back into it for a short second while she fished out an appropriate outfit for the day.

“Well, buddy,” She said, “it’s now or never.”

Quickly, she got the little kid dressed, before smiling down at the adorable set of t-shirt and shorts that she had picked. The shirt was a graphic tee, showing a cute little math pun that she could only assume was right up Peter’s alley. _Maybe I should see about having a Get To Know Me session between Peter and the rest of us tomorrow_, she thought.

Nonetheless, Pepper grabbed the boy’s hand and began to guide him out of the room and down the long, futuristic hallway of Stark Tower’s residential floor. “Is Miss Ro- uh- Romania gonna be there?” Peter asked, shuffling his feet a little.

“Romanoff, sweet pea, and yes. They’re gonna be your teammates when you get bigger, so they’ll be everywhere you go. Especially Nat, she’s a doll. Probably taking a liking to you already.” Pepper blabbed, “Why do you ask?”

Peter shrugged, looking around the interior as they stopped at the entrance to the team’s kitchen. Finally, they took their grand steps in, and were greeted by the booming voice of one Steve Rogers.

“Shit!”


	6. Sixth Sense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, almost with a shock, Peter felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck. Like someone had hit him, only nobody was there. He’d been feeling like that a lot, when somebody would get hurt or was about to. Especially the one time that Leah threw a Wii remote at his head. That had hurt.

“Steve!” Miss Pepper shouted, nearly tripping over Peter as she rushed to check on the man.

He was writhing on the floor in pain, grabbing his foot as though his life depended on it. “My fucking foot!” He shouted. “Language, Rob Hall.” The ever-hilarious Mr. Stark retaliated, grim as it was.

Peter was beginning to realize that nearly everything the man said was upsetting in some capacity. Much different from his previous caretaker... mother... foster parent... what was she again? He couldn’t really remember. Olivia was a fine name on its own, so he had never really understood the need for a title.

Suddenly, almost with a shock, Peter felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck. Like someone had hit him, only nobody was there. He’d been feeling like that a lot, when somebody would get hurt or was about to. Especially the one time that Leah threw a Wii remote at his head. That had hurt.

Maybe... maybe Mr. Rogers was hurt?

“You get hu’t?” Peter asked, worried that one of his new caretakers was injured, and that he may be blamed for the man’s suffering. He didn’t know what had happened, only that Mr. Rogers was clearly very mad about something with his foot, and was saying bad words because of it.

Peter knew lots of bad words, because his parents had naughty mouths when they were angry at something, but Mama and Dada told him not to say them. It was like that episode of Arthur. Bad words were like telling someone you wanted to hurt their feelings, and that wasn’t very nice.

The toddler waited for a second, expecting some sort of a response from either Mr. Rogers or one of the many other people in the room that were much bigger than himself.

It made him sad to know that the people around him didn’t like him, but it made him angry when they wouldn’t even pay attention to him. And boy, oh boy, was he a problem when he was angry.

The special doctor that had come by to visit him yesterday said that he had “anger issues” and was “subject to unnecessary vi-oh-lense”. Peter thought that was silly, because he knew that word and he did not hit people. Never ever. He just pinched, or kicked, or broke something of theirs to make them feel the pain he felt. What was it to some doctor guy? 

Grown ups were always acting funny anyways, always lying and pretending. That was why Peter didn’t want to be a grown up. 

Never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever. 

And did he say never ever? 

Finally, he worked up the courage to whine. A big, long, almost babyish whine that was sure to get the attention of the grownups. Thankfully, it sort of worked. Though none of the actual grownups payed the boy any mind, the robot guy, Mr. Village... Vincent... something, did.

“My name is Vision, Peter.” The robot in question said. Wait a second. “I talkin’ out loud?” The little boy asked, clutching his heart in shock. “Yes, Peter... you seem to be. Is something wrong with you today?”

Peter thought for a second, glancing around the room as he fought to recall what he had been wanting. Quickly, he caught sight of Mr. Rogers, and spoke his mind. “My head hurted. Misser Rogers get hu’t?”

“Nah, kid. You’re just imaging things. Steve is fine.” Mister Stark insisted, finally giving the boy some attention, as Mister Rogers nodded his head in agreement, despite his face being twisted with pain. “Go ahead and get in the seat next to Nat, Peter.”

And Peter did, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were undermining him. No matter how much Mr. Rogers insisted he was fine, Peter knew. He knew a lot of things.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are much appreciated! Thank you for all the support!
> 
> Tumblr: badmcuposts


	7. Seventh Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as she hated to admit it; the boy, however breakable he was, ignited a small fire of her humanity.
> 
> A fire she would prefer to douse with water, but a fire nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I just wanted to give a special thank you for all of the positive messages on tumblr during the wait, you’re all amazing!

“And if X was twelve times the radius of circle M, and Y was forty three, and segment JL was... oh, let’s say sin(32) multiplied by the tangent ratio of angle R, what would the measure of angle KLM end up being?” Tony asked, adding the new measures to the diagram he was referring the many complex questions back to.

Peter sighed, and begrudgingly collapsed his tiny body over the top of his crowded desk. “Misser Rogers nee’s a doct’r.” He repeated for the umpteenth time since his and Tony’s training session had begun. 

“No, he doesn’t. Steve said he was fine, so he’s fine.” Tony explained, hoping this would be the end of the conversation. “Now, are you going to focus on the equation, or should we cut this tutoring session off early and you can go bother Natasha?”

Peter rolled his eyes, and picked the pencil back up and off of his desk, but made no move towards his scratch paper or even his scientific calculator. Instead, the boy simply wrote a small, messily inscribed _m<B ~ 13.564_. “Theo’em nine two.” He mumbled, “Coro’ly one. It has a pitcher with it. With... a... a... a big g’aph!” Got the most hugest book on it ever in my backpack.” 

Tony sighed, and crossed the _Advanced Geometry- Grade Ten_ option from his list of potential subjects to cover with his new student. The kid had memorized every postulate, theorem, and corollary that the genius seated next to him could think of. It seemed that Peter was leagues ahead of other children his age, despite his preschool records placing him at only slightly above benchmark, due to the affects of the spider bite on his developing brain.

It was, as much as he hated to say it, horribly and totally frustrating for Tony to realize that this little shit may qualify for college eleven years earlier than he had.

“I go find Do’o’thy now?” Peter asked, his little head cocking to the side. He’d been asking to leave the offending premises since their lesson had begun, driving Tony completely bonkers and threatening to turn every last one of his remaining brown hairs to an aged grey.

“Only if you go to Natasha first.” The man resigned, folding up the textbooks and closing his rudimentary lesson plan until later in the day. “She’s a real bitch when her routine is changed and I’m not about to have an ex-assassin trailing me for not abiding by whatever good is left in the world. Nat will surely have my head in seconds if you get lost or whatever. Ain’t she supposed to get you to the lobby for that interview soon?”

Peter shook his head, causing his brown locks to form a halo over his head in their quickly fleeting trail of motion. “I gots lunch first. And... and trainin’. Misser Rogers is gonna do it. ‘Member?”

Suddenly, Tony’s head shot up in realization of the time. He was meant to hand Peter over to Steve for training at 9:30; however, judging by how many equations the toddler had completed, it was bound to be at least an hour past that. 

“You know what, better idea, kiddo. You go find Tasha, I’ll pretend I didn’t hold you overtime, and we blame this all on the stuffed rabbit. Go!”

-

Natasha’s shitty-ass day was going just peachy, thank you very much.

First, Steve had tripped over the coffee table and nearly broken her leg with the full force of his body swinging across the room, then that sticky-fingered child had gotten pancake syrup on her shirt during breakfast, followed by when Clint had shot her hair dryer with an arrow while she was finishing up after her shower; now she was prepared to die. Wet hair and all.

“Miss ‘tasha!” The miniature terror in prior reference shouted as he ran into the room, or, rather, slid by his socked feet. Say the devil’s name and he shall appear, she could only assume. 

She lifted the boy up from the ground, careful not to cause any injuries as he was precious cargo as far as SHIELD was to be concerned, and began pacing around the room to lower his heart rate. “What are you doing in here?” She asked, momentarily confused by the child’s presence, “You’re meant to be in training right now, Peter. Steve won’t be happy to find out you ditched him. Did Tony lose track of time again?”

“Misser S’ar... S’ar... Stark said to say it was Do’o’thy’s fault. He good.” Peter chirped, not catching the woman’s condescending tone. “Well, I guess that I will just have to take you down to the training room myself, then, won’t I?” Natasha conceded. As much as she hated to admit it; the boy, however breakable he was, ignited a small fire of her humanity.

A fire she would prefer to douse with water, but a fire nonetheless.

Peter nodded his head, giddily and covered in a thick layer of innocence. He was too young to fully grasp the situation, and Natasha could only take note of that in passing as she continued to distance herself in each and every emotional capacity that the human brain could find fathomable.

They began to walk down the hallways, lucky enough that the training room was on the same floor. There, the two enhances individuals were greeted by a bored looking Steve, sitting on his phone with his foot elevated on a stack of exercise mats.

“Told’ja he ‘as hurt. Now we go doct’r, kay?” Peter tried, pointing to where Steve laid. “What?” The man responded, having heard the tattle. “No, no, no, Peter. I’m fine, I swear it. Doesn’t even hurt anymore. There’s no need to go see a doctor. I have super fast healing, like the kind SHIELD says you have. So, I’m not hurt, got it?”

Peter looked the man over once, quick as he could, and responded gently, yet with as much sarcasm as a three year old could likely muster, “Uh huh, you say so.”

And, if Natasha was being completely honest, she almost was beginning to believe the toddler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated! Next chapter is already half way done!
> 
> Tumblr: badmcuposts


	8. The Eighth Circle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven’t been keeping up with my updates on tumblr (@badmcuposts), this is as good a time as ever to please check out my “Stuck With A Spiderling” tag! I had some mental issues the past month and, while it was written, couldn’t manage to post anything. That being said, I’m happy to be back! Please, please, please be safe and wash your hands, y’all!

“And what would you say you’re most excited for?” The nice woman with the pretty brown hair asked him.

Peter shrugged, not entirely understanding the point of the question. That isn’t to say he had understood the point of any of the other questions, but he wasn’t worried about those at this point.

The whole interview was just... weird. Not bad, per se, but... weird. Wrong. So horribly off that it felt as though his too-small-for-his-age body was being tortured, slowly for every second that it continued.

The lady, whatever she had said her name was, wasn’t the problem. No, it was the questions.

Apparently, the rest of the world were super duper interested in him after he talked to the scary people with the flashing cameras and microphones yesterday. So, they wanted to know more about him.

Or, rather, more about who he was going to be, which was why things felt so strange. Peter just didn’t get it. Why was he different? Was it really just because he was climbing on the walls and feeling really hungry and cold all the time? 

What if he was just sick? Valerie got the flu a few months ago, then a bunch of the other kids started passing it around the group home. Maybe it was like that. Maybe he was just really, really sick and pretty soon he would feel better and not be different any longer.

But, judging by the way everyone was acting, that didn’t seem likely. It looked like he was going to be different forever and ever and ever and ever and ever.

From the back corner of the room, Peter saw Elijah signal for him to make up a better response. The little boy had now officially decided he did not like Elijah. 

The man seemed fo have no real interest in keeping him happy and smiley, which was what he had originally said was the goal, but was rather far more into forcing the smiles out for the sake of the camera.

“‘cited to wear cool ou’fit.” Peter mumbled. He just wanted this to be over already.

Really, if Miss Pepper hadn’t told him that he had to talk to the nice brunette lady for a while so the cameras could record him, he would have left a long time ago.

Apparently, it was something called “Public Relations”, and Mr. Elijah was in charge of them. His whole entire job was to make people like Peter’s new caretakers.

Speaking of which, Mr. Rogers was sat next to Elijah, which made Peter even more mad and sad. Nobody would listen to him about Mr. Rogers! It was stupid, even if stupid was a bad word.

“That’s very nice, Peter. I bet you’ll have the best suit out of anyone when you’re older. What colors do you think it should be?” 

Peter began talking again with the woman, giggling and smiling whenever Elijah made hand motions for him to do so. _“Cute sells.”_ He had said, whatever that was supposed to mean.

Whenever he looked at Mr. Rogers, he would get that funny tingly feeling in the back of his neck again. He didn’t really understand it, but he knew it meant something was bad.

Still, nobody cared. Nobody would listen! It made Peter mad and sad when they did that. Like nobody wanted to help him or Mr. Rogers.

Over the course of the last day, whenever Peter really thought about it, he wondered if he should do something super duper bad so that the lady in the blue dress will come and take him away. Like hit somebody really hard a whole bunch of times until red stuff started coming out of their heads. He saw Milo and Gabriel do that once to a big kid they knew from school.

Maybe he could live with a princess, like in the fairytales his mama used to read at bedtime, or with a scary witch. Even the most scary witch of all time would have to be nicer than these people.

No, that would be too good. Too indescribably perfect. Nothing good ever happened to poor Peter Parker, he repeatedly forced himself to remember. Nothing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it, folks! The next chapter is written and will be a bit more... vulgar, so get ready for the real party to start. As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!


	9. Bottom Of The Ninth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, Steve’s ankle seemed to buckle beneath him, as the statue of a man suddenly fell from where he stood and crashed onto the ground.
> 
> He screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s what we’ve all been building up to since chapter four! Let’s get it right.

The day trotted on in constant suffering and useless bickering between the adults and their charge, never quite ending the fight.

That, of course, continued. Wash and repeat. Day after day until Peter’s second week with the Avengers was beginning, much to the boy’s chagrin, as he would relentlessly complain about tickling and buzzing- whatever that was supposed to mean.

Natasha watched on as Tony attempted to entice Peter with the current of thousands of advanced trigonometry problems, only to find that the boy was still too far ahead for the textbooks to keep up with him.

Somehow, they’d gotten the kid distracted enough from Steve to focus on the work, but the little pout that took over his melancholy face was enough to tell them it wasn’t really worth the trouble.

In reality, Peter seemed to be giving up on even fighting. He wasn’t complaining or whining at the present moment, wasn’t even grumbling as he set to work scribbling out equation after equation.

“Stark, he can be done now.” Wanda said, pulling the boy’s head from its downturned spot at the mention of his aquatinted pronoun.

Peter smiled, not bothering to check with Tony on the matter, and jumped down from the table. “Miss ‘anda say I go now.” He mumbled.

The toddler waddled his way over to the couch where the adults were sat, quickly scaling it without issue, and finding a comfortable spot by foribly pushing Steve and Bucky apart. “I sit here.”

“Oh do you, now, kid?” Bucky chuckled, slightly amused at the scandalized face of Steve. 

“What makes you think you can just sit down wherever you like, huh?”

Peter cocked his head to the side, a trait that was becoming increasingly annoying the more the boy did it, and raised his little eyebrow. “Misser Rogers still huwt. You fix.”

Well, there’s that blessing over with.

“No, Peter.” Steve repeated for the umpteenth time. “I’m not hurt, you’re just pretending.”

“It tickles!” Peter squealed.

They still had no idea what the kid was going on about with the tickling nonsense, maybe he needed some kind of medical attention? Really, they swore by it that not a soul had tickled him, less they give the little beast the idea that his presence was anything more than a burden on the world.

“STINGS! STINGS! HE’P!”

“What?” Wanda asked, rushing over to where the boy was violently shaking and screaming. Peter continued yelling, before he made a break for it by climbing up the nearest wall and taking bunk on the celling, attempting to scream in peace, it seemed.

By this point, most of the adults had stood up to investigate the child’s odd behavior, and Steve was the last to join the party as he rose up from the couch.

Well... let’s just say he made it three steps.

Suddenly, Steve’s ankle seemed to buckle beneath him, as the statue of a man suddenly fell from where he stood and crashed onto the ground.

He screamed.

He screamed and screamed in such an utter display of agony that the very state of the world seemed to stand still and silent so that the scream could echo to Asgard and back.

“Mr. Rogers appears to be showing signs that he is in immense pain.” Vision said calmly, his AI showing a little too harshly.

“YOU FUCKING THINK?!” Steve responded, continuing his tirade of yells.

Normally, Tony would have taken the opportunity to language him, but everyone could agree that this was most definitely not the time.

“Foot! Said so! Told’ja!” Peter began hooping and hollering, almost pleased with himself as the toddler seemingly ceased his screaming.

Almost as if the “sting” was completely gone.

But nobody paid the boy much mind, too distracted as they heaved Steve onto their shoulders and carried him to the MedBay, leaving one three year old behind in the common area with no one to see.

“F’iday?” Peter asked to the celling.

“Yes, Peter?” The smooth, Irish accent responded, almost melodic in the way that she brought calm to the little boy’s ears.

“I huwt Misser Rogers?” He asked.

“No, Peter. It appears that an external factor has injured the captain. You are not at fault in this instance.”

“Oh.” Peter humphed.

Somehow, that didn’t make him feel any better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooohhhhhh nooooo. This can’t be good for Steve 😂. As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!


	10. Tenth Spirited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The unfamiliar men and women were all decorated with scrubs, many of which were stained with smudges of blood, all hounding over microscopes and records. The room was entirely white with accents of a medical blue, and it smelled clean. Too clean. The lighting was painfully florescent and pained Peter’s overly sensitive eyes, but he didn’t cry.
> 
> He was a big boy, and he could tell that these people wouldn’t tolerate any crying if he began to give in.
> 
> “Oh, god, I forgot we left him up there.” Mr. Stark said, his voice echoing from where him and the other familiar adults stood in a small corner of the room, completed with couches and a TV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, time to find out what’s wrong with Stevie my boy!

Peter continues to rock himself on the celling for a few hours, completely content in his own little world.

He didn’t like thinking about the way that nobody had listened to him. Sometimes, when bad things happened, and he had the ability to stop them, but he didn’t, he would get really mad. 

It posed the question of whether or not he would prefer to be the one causing the bad things, so that he couldn’t feel bad anymore.

Such a question was a bit too abstract for such a little boy to comprehend, even despite his increased neurological developments. It simply scared him to think about how little he would care if he simply... stopped doing the good things.

Mama always said that good people do good things, but Peter was beginning to understand that such a black and white view of the world was meant for children, and he no longer felt like a child. He felt like a patronized piece of meat, wilting away in a cupboard with no refrigeration to fuel him.

Perhaps, if the people he was living with were as mean as they had been acting, it would be just as good if he did bad things to them instead.

But that was all for naught, as there were other matters at hand.

By the time the clock struck midnight, Peter decided to stand up and crawl down once again, before walking into the big elevator and calling out to the lady in the celling.

“FI’DAY?” He asked, attempting to be polite. FRIDAY responded with a mellow “Yes, Peter?”, and left the boy to continue. “You take me to Misser Rogers? P’ease?” Peter requested humbly.

FRIDAY made a strange noise that nearly resembled an affectionate laugh, before the elevator began to descend. “Directing you to the MedBay, Peter. Please do not cause any disruption when you enter, as the environment may be dangerous with so much medical equipment around.”

After a few moments of blissful solitude, the elevator doors swung open to reveal a bussling room filled with people.

The unfamiliar men and women were all decorated with scrubs, many of which were stained with smudges of blood, all hounding over microscopes and records. The room was entirely white with accents of a medical blue, and it smelled clean. Too clean. The lighting was painfully florescent and pained Peter’s overly sensitive eyes, but he didn’t cry.

He was a big boy, and he could tell that these people wouldn’t tolerate any crying if he began to give in.

“Oh, god, I forgot we left him up there.” Mr. Stark said, his voice echoing from where him and the other familiar adults stood in a small corner of the room, completed with couches and a TV.

Miss Natasha looked Peter over, “Are you injured?” She asked. “No,” Peter responded, “but Misser Rogers is. I need’a check.” He struggled. Miss Natasha sighed, “Steve is still in the exam room. It’s like a doctor’s visit, okay? Just let them finish the check up and then we can all see him. You’re a bit early, Peter.”

At that, a new woman strutted over. She had dark hair and appeared to be of some type of asian descent. Peter thought he recognized her from pictures in his science books, but wasn’t sure of it.

“Actually, he made it just in time.” She said. The woman smiled down at Peter in a welcoming way, still vaguely patronizing but far less than some of her apparent equals. 

“Steve appears to have multiple fractures along various parts of his foot, as well as a small break in his lower calve.,” She explained, “We can only assume from the bloodwork that the super soldier serum was diminishing the pain as it attempted to rebuild the structure, but it was unsuccessful in doing any real healing, and just prolonged the inevitable.”

Peter smiled a little bit, happy in the knowledge that Mr. Rogers didn’t heal. 

Somehow, that did make him feel better.

Whenever he would get hurt, he healed up super fast now that he was special. Maybe Mr. Rogers deserved to be in pain for not listening to Peter.

“Now, for our new addition, I can explain that a bit simpler.” The woman said, turning back to the toddler and bending down to his level.

“You see, honey, what happened is that-” “I got it.” Peter interrupted, not interested in hearing it again.

“Oh.” She sputtered. “Well then, I suppose we can move on from explanations and get down to formalities. My name is Dr. Cho, but you can call me Helen. I have all of your medical information from the SHIELD overview, but I guess it’s still polite to ask. What’s your name?” Dr. Cho queried.

Peter shrugged a little. “‘M Peter, Doc’er Cho.” He whispered. For a moment, the woman appeared to want to correct him on the name, but decides against it.

Without waiting for anything else from her, Peter turns to Mr. Stark.

“Time?” He asks. “Uhhh” Mr. Stark stumbles, glancing at his watch, “It’s getting to be 12:30. Do we need to, like, send you off? Should I call Pepper?”

Peter smiles at the familiar name. “Miss Pepper nice. She have me go night night.” He explained. At the notion, the man began furiously typing on his phone, assumingly texting Miss Pepper so that she could take Peter for bedtime.

But, before much could be done on that front, Nick Fury barged into the room at full speed, a look that could curdle dairy overtaking his usual stoic nature. “You fuckers let one of your strongest members go down over a coffee table?! Are you incompetent assholes going to-”

Suddenly, the man noticed Peter’s presence. His face grew dimmer, if that was even possible, and he looked at Mr. Barnes like the end of the world was upon them. “And what the hell is he doing up? Have you dense shits been paying any attention to your fucking ward? God, this kid is going to die in the safest place on earth. What happened to you all understanding your contractual obligations?”

“Sorry about that, Hook.” Mr. Stark apologized. “No no no no no no no no no.” Mr. Fury interrupted, “You, all of you, are coming with me. Now.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!


	11. The Eleventh Month, The Eleventh Day, The Eleventh Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Immediately, a large box-shaped device in the corner whirred to life.
> 
> Its sleek design made it so obviously one of Tony Stark’s inventions. It was perfect in every way, even as a prototype. The man could do no wrong when it came to machines, Fury only wished the same rule could apply to people.
> 
> Inside, holograms mirrored reality, a scene of perfect clarity formed before them, and they could all easily make out the roof of Avengers Tower. On it, each of them laid, their faces bloodied and beaten as though every last one of their weaknesses had been utterly exploited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy, dudes!

“You, all of you, are idiots. You hear me? Idiots! How dumb do you have to be to not put in effort for the sake of your own balls? Do you understand how serious this is?”

Fury led the group into the room, strutting with them as he entered the laboratory. 

Glitzes and technological marvels littered the room, many a whoozit and whatzit, though the occasional widget did catch Wanda’s eye. None of them were sure of what the director wanted, but they could tell that he was raving.

“Serious? Really?” Clint pestered, “Man, you handed us a kid, who we have no relation to whatsoever, and told us to go fuck ourselves. That is what you did. Don’t tell us this is anything more.”

Fury’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at that, a vein seeming to bulge at the tip of the man’s left temple.

He glared. “Barton, I would think you of all people would have understood basic psychology.”

The room shifted, an air of amusement mixed into the fear of what might happen should they be made more at odds than they already are. Nobody wanted this, nobody.

With great disdain, Tony perked up at the notion, seemingly challenged by the lure of competition.

“I think I know a thing or two about that stuff, Black Stache, and none of it has to do with giving a kid to strangers and expecting it to go well.” He keened, stepping more into the light as if to make himself more agressive.

In the end, he merely appeared confused under the dim lighting of the expensive atmosphere.

Fury groaned. “Children, you absolute embarrassment of a human being, are a byproduct of what they have observed. Adults are a byproduct of their childhood forms. If we’re going to use this boy’s abilities for the good of humanity, we need to start the work now. You are supposed to be making that happen.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “He wasn’t being abused in that home, you realize. Nothing says the kid couldn’t stay there.” He commended.

“An unstable environment is what is was!” Fury screamed, anger seeping from every pore of his body, each cavity illuminating with the fiery red of his imminence.

He bellowed, “That system isn’t made for things like this, the public school system wasn’t either! That’s why he’s here! With you! If one goddamn thing went wrong in that boy’s life, we would be risking a massive overhaul in the future. Do you want New York to happen all over again? This time far, far worse? Do you?!”

Wanda began to shrink from the yelling, leaning against Clint in a desperate attempt to make herself more comfortable. The man allowed her, as he always did.

Clint shrugged, nearly appearing drunken as he pulled off the air of nonchalance. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Fury. You can’t make claims on guesses, man.”

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, eh?” Fury questioned lightly.

The room quieted as no one dared to make a sound, less they spoil the validity of the first move. The silence was deafening; however, it leaned towards the sentimental as its gravity pulled them into a state of wonder as to what was going through the director’s head. That is, of course, until suddenly:

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Director?”

“Launch that, uh, BARF program Stark was working on last month.”

Tony shot up at the mention of his pet project. “It’s not finished yet-” he insisted, only to he interrupted as soon as he began.

“It’s good enough for my purposes, asshole.” Fury barked in a fit of rage.

He turned his head so that he was facing upwards, commanding to the celling as there was no physical body to turn to. “Now, please demonstrate what we’re looking at if a certain Peter Benjamin Parker has any complications caused by an unstable environment over the course of the next decade.”

Immediately, a large box-shaped device in the corner whirred to life.

Its sleek design made it so obviously one of Tony Stark’s inventions. It was perfect in every way, even as a prototype. The man could do no wrong when it came to machines, Fury only wished the same rule could apply to people.

Inside, holograms mirrored reality, a scene of perfect clarity formed before them, and they could all easily make out the roof of Avengers Tower. On it, each of them laid, their faces bloodied and beaten as though every last one of their weaknesses had been utterly exploited.

And above them, their assailant stood, unharmed and stoic with a glint of pride in his eyes. The young man could not be more than 14 years of age, still young and plump with the lingers of baby fat. The rough arch of his left eyebrow and long, curly hair gave away his identity in a heartbeat, however.

Peter Parker was all grown up, if only a little. His face wasn’t forcibly generated, not artificial looking or as though he had simply been run through an age progression software. No, he looked like a ghost of his current self. Like a true stepping stone of time.

Peter looked like a caricature, a personality taking over his entire face that challenged his current disposition entirely. He looked hard and tough, as though he could kill each and every one of them in a milliseconds and smile all throughout.

“Jesus fucking christ” Wanda expressed.

“That’s terrifying.” Bucky lamented to her, the two of them sharing the same horrified look in their eyes as they both were reminded of wearing a face just like that.

Fury halted at the interjections. “Shut up, sit down, and pay attention, you incels.”

The holograms moved fluidly, as if there was a private little play being performed just for them, with real human beings taking the place of the breathless lights before them.

The older Peter glared menacingly. “It is an honor, Mr. Stark, to be the one to take the beloved Iron Man’s head.” He seethed, a device of some sort attatched to his wrist, now aimed at Tony’s head.

“You could have been better than this.” The hologram of Bucky pleaded , “You’ve caused an annihilation. The world will only hate you, you won’t find any love this way.”

But Peter only chuckled.

He continued, “And I you, but it isn’t my goal to find love. I gave up on love the day you fuckers were forced upon me. It is my goal to find peace. And peace I will find; that is, once my greatest enemies are dead.” He conceded.

The hologram of Clint turned to his side, revealing one of his own arrows, plunged through his heart, almost definitely damaging the major arteries. He would be dead within the hour. “Don’t do this.” 

Peter pivoted, readjusting to face the one who spoke in vain towards him.

“You only plead with me because you know you aren’t strong enough to stop me.” He accused.

Clint protested chastising like. “We’re holding back.” He claimed, though it was evident in every way that it was not so.

Peter knew it just as well. “That isn’t true, you good for nothing liar, and you know it.” He seethed, “I’m glad to know that you will die as arrogant as you were in life.”

“Turn it off!” Bruce demanded, cool and demanding in his tone although the quiver in his voice and horror in his face gave his peril away. 

As his will, the machine ceased its presentation.

“Watch and regret. Question me again, or my motives, and you will allow this simulation to become a reality, which would suck because I think we all know what happens after this moment.” Fury instructed.

Natasha crooned from her spot in the corner, something in her eyes giving light to the fact that she wasn’t quite calm either. “Then what do you suggest we do?” She asked.

Fury cackled, and shouted. “I suggest you fix this mess you’ve so clearly created. That boy is being neglected and his promise is not being reached. 

He turned towards the captain. “You’re better than that, Rogers, aren’t you? Or would you like for Peter’s name to be added to the list of lives you lost in battle?”

“We’ll do our best. Just, god, don’t show me that fucking thing again.” Bucky insisted, leading Steve by the hand away from the situation.

Fury sighed, and began to make his own exit.

“You better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr is badmcuposts, stop by and check for updates. As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!


	12. Twelfth Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No time, Bucky wants to see you. Don’t you wanna visit him for a little bit before the others make their way to breakfast?” The woman pushed, already guiding Peter out the door and into the elevator so that they could begin.
> 
> Peter looked shell-shocked at the realization that he was being tag-teamed. Smart-ass little shit. “Misser Bar’es do what?” He asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!! Here’s the next chapter, lovelies!!!!

“Good morning, Peter!”

“Ahhhhh!!!!” The boy screamed, jumping up from where he had been laying in his crib. 

Wanda was in front of him, which was probably quite strange from his youthful perspective. He had only ever had morning time with Pepper. Although both were clearly female, as least as far as he had been made aware of, they were definitely different people.

Peter liked Pepper, everyone knew that. She smiled at him and played peek a boo with him in the mornings.

Wanda was not Pepper. He didn’t like her. She wasn’t a friend at all, judging by the way he acted around her. They would have to fix that.

“Don’t give me that, you need to get dressed and ready for breakfast.” The aforementioned woman prompted, plucking the boy from his safety and setting him down in front of the large armoire.

Peter began to appear physically stressed by that, and looked around the room frantically as he aimlessly searched for his favorite tower resident.

“Miss... miss ‘epper comes.” He explained.

Wanda sighed. “Yes, she was coming of a morning for a little while there, wasn’t she? But now I get to take the honors of getting the little man dressed. Any particular shirt you wanted?”

At that, Peter’s eyes grew harsh and annoyed.  
“Not little. ‘M smart.” He claimed.

The woman groaned internally, though she did her best to keep up the pleasant attitude cor Peter’s sake.

She had only been sent up to do this job because she was a former HYDRA member, same as how Bucky had to carry the next part of the charade. They understood what happens when the strength of evil forces overtakes a single person better than anyone.

They had witnessed it firsthand.

“That wasn’t an insult. You’re, what, two? Being smart doesn’t change that. Would you like to follow up on the shirt now?” She checked again, this time gesturing in hopes that the boy would follow her lead.

Peter didn’t, though, as he was too busy freaking out. “But... but Miss ‘anda not... not...”

“It’s alright, Peter. Don’t worry about it. Just come with me and get dressed. Now, what did I ask about shirts?” She repeated, now getting sick of the routine.

What was with this kid?

Finally, Peter blurted out a curt phrase that actually conveyed a command for once. Something to play off of. Strong yet sound, he spoke in a rushed motif.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. Wanna go back to ‘ivia. No wan’ you.”

Wanda sighed once more. “Peter, nobody is sending you back to the group home. You can’t stay there now that you’re in SHIELD custody. Got it?” She explained.

Peter stared at her for a moment in evident contemplation, basically wasting their precious time to think about absolutely nothing. “Blue.” He finally relented.

The woman smiled, knowing she had won the battle. If not the war, she hoped. Wanda frantically plucked a blue shirt from the options and tossed it to Peter.

“Okay, this will do. We can just keep your pajama pants for now. Come on, kiddo, let’s get a move on.” She prompted.

The boy shoved the shirt on after roughly tossing his previous top to the side. “I wan’ed-” he tried, but was interrupted immensely.

“No time, Bucky wants to see you. Don’t you wanna visit him for a little bit before the others make their way to breakfast?” The woman pushed, already guiding Peter out the door and into the elevator so that they could begin.

Peter looked shell-shocked at the realization that he was being tag-teamed. Smart-ass little shit. “Misser Bar’es do _what?_” He asked.

“Come on, boy. Don’t stall. Bucky just wants to talk, nobody’s gonna put your head on a stick.” Wanda stated once more.

Suddenly, Peter smiled and began skipping ahead of her as they walked, mumbling an ever iconic line as he gleefully went, now distracted in his own imagination.

“Kill ‘da pig, cut ‘er throat, bash ‘er in!”

“That books a bit too old for you, don’t you think? Who read that to you?” The woman questioned. 

Was this kid really being read Lord Of The Flies at bedtime? Because, if so, there were definitely more factors at play in that simulation they had all watched than just the avengers.

Suddenly, the pair entered the kitchen. There, Bucky sat, prepared to have his little talk as he had rehearsed it all night. 

“Was... was Milo’s book f’r readin’. I read n’ he listen. He has dys-dys-dysle-dyslexia.” Peter continued, not noticing the change of scenery.

Wanda smiled at him. “Oh,” she gasped, feigning interest in the boy’s group home friends, “that’s very helpful of you.”

“Valerie has sixty five roses, though. Can’ help ‘er out. She needs Miss ‘livia to do it.” The boy began, clearly preparing to go on a full rant about health conditions.

Wanda had always loved that book as a child, she remembered how it was never missing from the library so she could take it home whenever she wanted and read through it with Pietro. The plot was lacking, since it was all educational, but-

“She has what?” Bucky suddenly asked, reminding them of his presence.

The intelligent female of the group rolled her eyes. “Cystic Fibrosis, grandpa.” She explained, “Girl’s got cobwebs in her lungs.”

“Oh, okay,” Bucky acknowledged, “I remember one of the kids in school with me and Stevie had that. Once we graduated, he couldn’t join the war or anything, but I think I saw his name somewhere in a journal that he was runnin’ a factory in Brooklyn.”

Both of the younger people stared atnhim for a moment, before Peter took it upon himself to ask, “‘s storytime over now?”

“I hope so, kid.” Wanda agreed.

Bucky laughed at the antics. Perhaps it was good for them to have a little bonding, keep the little one happy and all. “Forgive me for relishing in the memories of my past, Wanda.”

“You’re lucky we’re being so careful or else I’d be teaching him a lot of new words in order to describe how boring you always sound.” Wanda joked back.

Peter, of course, didn’t follow. Rather, he looked up at her in shock and confusion. “Like... like what w’rds?” He asked.

Which meant that the next minute would be very awkward.

“I mean, really, you’re a total snooze fest. Worse than Steve, which is saying something.”

“What w’rds?”

She looked down at the boy again. “Nothing, Peter. Not anything you’ll wanna sit through.” Wanda explained, “Just worry about your- no, no, bad wording. Uh, you know what? I think I’ll just... I’ll leave.” She said, making her exit.

Supposedly.

Quickly, the woman turned around, aiming a jestingly accusational finger straight at Bucky.

“But, before I go-” she shouted.

Bucky laughed before she could continue. “Oh, you get outta here!” He screamed back, grinning at the antics.

He realized, after, that he was now alone in the room. With Peter. 

“So, Peter... how are you adjusting?” He asked the toddler, trying to speak down enough that he might grasp the conversation.

Peter shrugged. “Fine, can I go see Miss ‘epper?” He asked 

“What? No. Just... just talk to me for a minute.” Bucky insisted, “Are you happy? Having fun in the cool new location? Anything?”

Peter murmured back. “Mhm. Yeah. Fun. Uh huh.”

“Peter, don’t sit here and lie to me. If you’re ever feeling sad or anything, you need to tell me. Okay? We can be best friends!” Bucky tried, silently begging that the boy would take the high road.

He had to.

He just had to.

“Got it.” Peter said, making Bucky release a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He smiled. “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!


	13. Friday The Thirteenth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “F’IDAY is bwoken.” The boy claimed.
> 
> Yeah, Peter knew FRIDAY was fine, but he had a few more bones to pick as he began to fully wake up from his nightly escapes in dreamland. 
> 
> Bucky made a noise of confusion. “What makes you think that?”
> 
> The kid had been right about Steve’s injuries, maybe there was a bug somewhere in FRIDAY’s programming? Could be a hacker. It was a worthy lead.
> 
> But Peter only turned to Tony and pointed and accusational finger at him. “You made ‘er. Means she’s proba’ly bwoken.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ass beating will have to be next chapter!!! Sorry!!! This one ran a lot longer than I expected it to so I cut it in half. Ass beating coming soon!!!

“Peter?”

The boy looked up at Tony. “Mhm?” He responded.

“Would you like to go shopping? Get some toys?” The man asked, shuffling awkwardly in his seat out of discomfort. He wasn’t used to talking to kids.

Well, there was that one kid in Tennessee, but that was a while ago.

What was his name again? Hayden? Harold? It was something with an H...

Peter shook his little head. “Don’ need.” He muttered.

“But do you want them?” Tony asked again. God, how tense was this kid?

The toddler cocked his head in questioning, his right eyebrow higher than his left. “Toys?” He asked.

“Yes, the toys!” Tony clarified. He was so sick of this boy acting like he was dumber than he was. He’d seen that little mind work, Peter was clearly messing with him.

Peter, of course, smiled. He liked making Mr. Stark angry. Causing emotion was... fun. He felt in control. He felt real. Heard.

“Not ‘nymore.” He said. 

The adults at the table began to groan. The boy was being very annoying, and wasn’t giving any straight answers throughout the entire team breakfast.

Well, team and random-future-teammate-that’s-literally-fucking-two.

It was Clint’s idea to serve a child-friendly breakfast, and they were all regretting ever listening to him. The bowls of overly-sugary cereal and glasses (or, sippy cup, in Peter’s case. One of the few items that was sent in his bag from his prior living situation) of refrigerator chilled mango juice were not cutting it.

They missed eggs and coffee.

“Did you want them before Tony yelled at you?” Wanda asked, making Peter look up and turn his body a bit to face her properly.

The boy shrugged a little. “Maybe.” He hummed.

Peter didn’t want to talk to them. He wanted to go to another home. He wanted the pretty lady in the blue dress. He wanted to be somewhere- no, anywhere but here.

“You’re being very difficult, Peter.” Steve pushed, setting his morning paper down.

_Old man._

Peter cried at that. “You too!” He shouted.

“Son, you better-” Steve began, bit he didn’t make it very far before Peter began to speak again, changing the subject with one short word.

“S’ar.” The boy mentioned. 

Bucky cocked his eyebrow. “What did you say?” He asked.

Peter rolled his eyes. “S’ar. I like s’ar toys.” He explained, as though that helped at all.

“Yeah- I ain’t follwing.” The ex-assassin resigned.

Peter stood up, suddenly taking demand of the table. “S’ar Wars.”

“Who showed you Star Wars?” Natasha asked.

The toddler shrugged his shoulders and say back down in his seat before anybody could do it for him. “Kids.” He mumbled.

“Which kids? You’re definitely too young for Star Wars, buddy.” Clint spoke up.

“Kids. Dunno which. Just kids. Bubbas and sissies. Kids.” Peter repeated over and over again.

Brothers and sisters? Maybe...

“The kids at the group home?” Clint asked for clarification.

Peter rolled his eyes and puffed out some air, suddenly going lax in the chair and diminishing his posture. “Duh.” He moaned.

“He’s a little shit, ain’t he?” Steve muttered to his best friend.

“Talking more than he ever did before.” Bucky lamented.

“Point taken.”

Peter could hear them, the idiots. His really good hearing was coming in handy more and more each and every day he stayed here. Like a super power.

Wait-

“Well, we can get some Star Wars toys for you. How about that? That sound good?” Wanda said, pouring herself more mango juice.

“Mhm.” Peter agreed.

A few minutes passed, the table stayed silent. After a bit, the toddler spoke again.

“F’IDAY is bwoken.” The boy claimed.

Yeah, Peter knew FRIDAY was fine, but he had a few more bones to pick as he began to fully wake up from his nightly escapes in dreamland. 

Bucky made a noise of confusion. “What makes you think that?”

The kid had been right about Steve’s injuries, maybe there was a bug somewhere in FRIDAY’s programming? Could be a hacker. It was a worthy lead.

But Peter only turned to Tony and pointed and accusational finger at him. “You made ‘er. Means she’s proba’ly bwoken.”

“FRIDAY is perfectly fine, bud. That wasn’t a very nice thing to say.” Steve pressured. Peter was being very rude.

The boy mumbled incoherently for a moment. He seemed... angry? Could it be? “Dumb.” He stated.

“What’s this all about, huh, boy? How come you’re so snippy all of a sudden?” Tony asked, becoming defensive.

So, Peter did what any other child his age in the same situation would do.

He kicked him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!


	14. Fourteenth Symphony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The woman seethed. “Go get the kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE is the Pepper yelling chapter y’all asked for!!!

“Hey!” Bucky shouted, grabbing the boy from behind and hoisting him over his shoulder.

Tony laughed a little, rubbing at the spot on his leg that had already turned red underneath the gucci dress pants. “It’s okay, he didn’t use full strength or anything.” He commended.

Breakfast was called off early, and everyone began to make their way to the living room for a little... chat with their ward.

“Peter, why would you kick Tony? That’s very bad of you.” Natasha lectured. Peter seemed less than impressed, though. Hell, he wasn’t even intimidated by the literal former Russian spy.

The boy glared at her. “Not bad. I not bad.” He seethed.

Natasha rolled her eyes, before lifting the boy over her shoulder and arguing. “No, you aren’t bad. You’re behaving bad. Come on, let’s go back to your room.”

But, she didn’t make it that far, because Pepper was right there, just around the ben with a frown seemingly permanently etched into the woman’s face.

She pulled Peter off of Natasha’s shoulder as best she could, placing the boy on her hip as she questioned the woman. “Where the hell are you taking him?” She asked.

Clint jumped into the conversation, then. “His room? Kid kicked Tony, I’d be giving my kids a right time out for that.” He explained.

“He’s three. I doubt he even knows what he did!” Pepper cried out, rubbing Peter’s back as though the boy was crying.

He wasn’t.

But boy, oh boy, did he want to. Maybe Miss Pepper would kill them for making him cry and he could go back to Olivia’s apartment and play with his friends.

“Then you punish him.” Clint abdicated, waving his hands in a truce gesture and flailing his eyebrows around in circles. Peter thought he looked king of silly doing that.

Pepper turned him around a little, holding the boy so that his crotch was pressed up against her midrift, not uncomfortable but still awkward. Once they had eye contact, the woman began a short lecture that sounded almost pre-meditated, as though she’d dreamed of having a child in her midst for years.

The woman dictated gently, leaving no room for argument from the boy as she spoke. “Peter, you can’t kick people. That’s very mean. You could hurt him, okay?”

Peter nodded appreciatively. He wouldn’t kick Tony again. That was fine. There were lots of other things to do, yeah? “Okay. Won’t do it ‘gain.” He promised.

“Good boy. Now, go wait for me in the other room, I have some business to take care of.” She sang, dismissing the toddler as Pepper sat him down, allowing Peter to run off towards the living room.

He turned once more beforehand, though. Just to leave a final measage. Peter made direct eye contact with Tony, leaving something sinister behind his eyes with full intention. This wasn’t over, he was still mad as a hornet. “Bye bye.” He chirped, giving a little finger wave before running out.

“Bye bye, buddy.” Pepper called.

The room was quiet for a moment, giving time for the team to focus on just how clear Peter had made his intentions without any words. That brat was going to make their lives a living hell if they didn’t figure something out. Fast.

Peter hadn’t even flinched when Pepper had gotten on him. She had been to light. To trusting of his slimy little ways.

Maybe it was too late, maybe he was going to kill them no matter what they did. Death wouldn’t be so bad, really.

If it meant escaping this little shit, they just might do anything.

All of them sat in the quiet, basking in the moment. No child in sight. No squeaky little voice making complaints, no cheap rascal to chase like life was a game. Serenity.

Of course, though, the quiet didn’t last.

“WHY THE HELL DID YOU HAVE HIM UP HERE? I’VE BEEN SEARCHING FOR HIM ALL MORNING! THAT KID WASN’T IN HIS CRIB AND NOBODY THOUGHT TO TELL ME YOU HAD TAKEN HIM?” Pepper shouted, her face as red as her hair.

Tony leaned back in his chair. “She’s mad.” He noted.

“I’M FUCKING LIVID! I THOUGHT SOMEONE HAD COME IN AND TAKEN HIM!” The woman continued, tirading as she grabbed her man by the shoulders and began to frantically shake him back and forth.

Once she finally quit, Tony stilled. “Sit down, Pep.” He insisted, considering getting the woman a glass of something. Water or vodka, he wasn’t sure yet.

Pepper glared. “You’re disgusting. I might have called the police if FRI hadn’t told me where he was. You better go apologize to that baby.” She insulted. 

“We didn’t do anything to him!” Steve and Bucky insisted, perfectly synced in the way only two super soldiers from the 1940s that got frozen in time and woke up in the 21st century could be.

Pepper shook her head. “I don’t care!” She screamed.

“You can’t keep acting like this.” Tony muttered, resting his greying head in his hands as he pulled the fingers through the roughage of the hair, slowly going mad.

The woman seethed. “Go get the kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!


	15. A March In Fifteenth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have to stick to the schedule, bubs.” He quelled, rubbing the toddler’s ankles. “For you?” The boy asked.
> 
> Steve smiled. “Yeah. For me.” He agreed, a light chuckle playing across his face. The kid liked him.
> 
> “Then Pe’er no do it.”
> 
> Or not.

“Peter?”

“Hm?” The boy responded, setting down the new toy he had already unwrapped on his own. It wasn’t like the toy wasn’t for him, not at all, but Pepper had to admit that she was more than a little upset that Peter thought it was appropriate to go around taking toys out of boxes when you hadn’t been officially given them yet.

Christmas was going to be a nightmare.

She gently nudged her fiancée forward. “Tony wants to say something to you.” She prompted suggestively.

Tony rolled his eyes, groaning in pure annoyance before kneeling down to be at eye level with the toddler. “On behalf of all of us, I’m sorry.” He monotonely recited, before looking up at Pepper for permission to leave.

The rest of the team stared on, faces equally bored as they remembered that this little tyrant was getting an apology.

Peter huffed. “No are not.” He accused. Pepper gasped. “Peter, that’s not polite.” She told him. 

The boy looked agitated, glaring back at the both of them. Peter had always been so nice with Pepper, Tony wondered, why was he openly arguing now? 

“Mean.” The boy added, pointing at Tony angrily before running to meet Pepper’s knees, his tiny face pudging awkwardly into them.

The boy tried to fight for her to pick him up, lifting his arms and making desperate grabby hands. “I go bed now.” He ordered.

“No-ho-ho you don’t.” Steve voiced, his boot still slightly obstructing his quick movement. “You go for training now. Then, maybe nap time. Only if you need it.” He instructed.

Peter began to fuss. “Don’ wanna.” He whined, kicking lightly as Steve lifted him into his arms.

The man wasn’t sure what came over him, but he abruptly felt the compulsion to hug the boy tightly, to gently pat his back and shush him until he calmed. 

So, he did just that. The true American spirit, one could suppose.

“You have to stick to the schedule, bubs.” He quelled, rubbing the toddler’s ankles. “For you?” The boy asked.

Steve smiled. “Yeah. For me.” He agreed, a light chuckle playing across his face. The kid liked him.

“Then Pe’er no do it.”

Or not.

Wanda laughed at Steve’s expense, the man’s earlier enthusiam quickly dropping “You’re going to enjoy killing us, aren’t you?”

Pepper choked. “What?” She gasped,

“Fury went batshit, I’ll explain later.”

“You’ll explain on the way, let’s go.”

-

Steve continued to hold Peter, until they eventually arrived at the training room. “Come on, Peter. Let’s have some fun, yeah?” Bucky asked, taking the boy away from his best friend.

“No!” The boy shouted, suddenly very desperate to return to Steve’s arms. So the kid did like him when he wasn’t trying to get him to train. Too bad, cause he was training no matter what.

Bucky sighed, looking at Clint for support. None was recieved. “Yes. Look at me, okay? Up!” Bucky cheered, tossing the toddler into the air.

The man caught Peter as soon as he came back down, ignoring the bored look splayed across Peter’s face. “And down!” He chirped.

“Don’ need Misser Bar’es for that.” Peter seethed, wiggling out of the man’s arms and running towards the wall of the room.

Clint chuckled. “Huh? What do you think you’re gonna do, fly?” He joked.

Then Peter was climbing the wall. They hadn’t gotten him to do that yet, and it was a sure sight for the entire group of them to see what they had been hearing about since Peter was picked up. Not only could this kid sit on the celing, he could do everything a spider could do and more.

The boy’s hands and feet stuck perfectly when he climbed, no weight dragging him down with gravity. Like a feather in the air. Suddenly, Peter began walking on the celling, doing fighting motions like he had been encouraged to do every training session thus far.

Messily, but he was doing them.

“Peter! Get down from there! Now!” Bucky ordered, pointing to the ground.

The boy pouted. “I do it up here!” He informed them. Bucky shook his head. “No. On the ground, Peter. Or else.”

Peter’s eyes squeezed into a painful squint, a glare of deadly force. “Else what?” He taunted.

Tony stepped back, then. “The hell did you just say?” He snapped, eyes dark and looming.

The boy echoed. “Else what?” He jeered, “Nobody can catch. Too high.”

Tony stepped around angrily. “I’m calling Sam. We need a flyer if he’s gonna be this much of a little shit. He’s got a room, right? Of course he has a room, who am I kidding? Clint, do the-” “Yeah, the vent thing. That’s all anybody knows me for, isn’t it?” Clint asked, already crawling into the nearest opening.

“Kind of, yeah.” He snapped back. A loud “Hey!” was heard from within the walls.

As Clint popped up, now right next to where Peter was sticking his tongue out at them from above, he grabbed the little boy as quickly as possible.

“No!” Peter sceeched, squirming and grabbing on to one of the support beams for dear life. Clint chuckled. “Oh yes you do, come here!” The boy screamed again. “AHHHHHH!!!”

Clint slowly lowered both of them through the ventilation system, Peter’s cries being heard the entire time, only slightly muffled by the concrete walls.

Steve snapped. “Peter, go sit in time out.” He instructed, pointing to a random corner. If the were going to put up with this kid’s apparent hatred of them, they were going to do it like any well-meaning guardians would.

Peter stopped screaming at that moment, looking confusedly at Steve. “What do?” He asked.

“Yeah, what did you do?” Steve questioned of him, looking for a response.

The boy smiled. “Play!”

Tony took him out of Clint’s arms, allowing the other man to adjust his ears after that tirade of bellowed screams. “This was training time, Peter. Not playtime.” He told the boy.

“Misser Bar’es say is fun!” Peter chimed.

Steve shook his head. “No, Bucky wants you to have fun while you train. Not for you to play during training time.”

Peter groaned. “Stupid.” He pouted.

“I’m sure you think it is. But, then again, you’re also a baby, so-” Tony started, only to be quickly interrupted bu the toddler.

His face was bright red, eyebrows set low and angry as his hands scrunched into tight balls. “I’m free!” He informed the grownup.

“Actually you cost Mr. Warbucks over there quite a bit-” Natasha tried. Peter interjected quickly, strugglingnto explain himself. “Free years ol’! Not baby!”

“Well, you’re acting like the terrible twos right now. So, I’d say you’re two.” Bucky responded haughtily.

Wrong response.

Before anyone could blink, the same scene as before played out before them. When or how Peter had freed himself from Tony’s grasp was unknown, for abruptly the boy was on top of the super soldier, pinning him to the ground.

Full strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!


	16. The Sixteenth Command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy was getting worse. He wasn’t improving with time. He wasn’t learning respect through neglect.
> 
> That simulated teen in the BARF program? He was starting look a hell of a lot more real.

> Pepper, for once, was quick to go against Peter’s wishes. “Get him off!” She shouted, already coming forward and grabbing the boy with all her might. 
> 
> He was stuck on, however, and didn’t budge an inch as he struggled to get his hands to Bucky’s throat.
> 
> Three year olds are famously non-lethal.
> 
> Three year olds have no idea that strangulation can kill a person.
> 
> Three year olds somewhat recently had their heads and throats roughly shoved through a birth canal.
> 
> Three year olds know that strangulation hurts.
> 
> “Jesus fucking christ!” Cling joined in, Natasha following as all 3 wrestled Peter off, finally yanking the boy to their side. Peter panted heavily, his eyes angry and violent.
> 
> Not deadly. 
> 
> Not murderous.
> 
> He hadn’t intended to kill, thank god, his face was still innocent and he appeared more fussy than deadly. Like a child throwing a temper tantrum.
> 
> An extremely strong, extremely sticky toddler who seemed to not fear death.
> 
> So this was what Fury had been worried about.
> 
> If Bucky had been another kid, if Peter had tried to beat up a child like that, that kid would be dead instantly. The boy didn’t understand his full power, he still thought himself mortal. He considered himself powerless, for he always had been.
> 
> He might have managed to kill Bucky on accident if they hadn’t gotten him off.
> 
> “Peter!” Natasha shouted, lifting the boy into her arms and giving him a quick swat on the behind. “Hate you! You die already!” Peter bellowed.
> 
> Clint countered. “That’s not really the goal, kiddo.”
> 
> This was bad. Very bad.
> 
> The boy pouted angrily, pointing sloppily towards the Captain. Steve was checking Bucky’s neck, where bruises had already begun to form. “Bad. Bad grownup.” He seethed.
> 
> Some of the adults laughed worriedly, but none of them were truly humored. 
> 
> The boy was getting worse. He wasn’t improving with time. He wasn’t learning respect through neglect.
> 
> That simulated teen in the BARF program? He was starting look a hell of a lot more real.
> 
> Something rang in Steve’s mind as he tended to his friend’s wounds. A message from someone he dared not name. Like a sign.
> 
> A dead woman’s pressure to make things right.
> 
> He ignored it.
> 
> “Bucky is not a bad grownup. He’s very nice.” Clint prospected. Peter only fussed more at that, though he seemed to quiet down come now that nobody was chastising him. “Bad.” He muttered.
> 
> Tony came over and plucked the boy from Natasha’s arms, handing him over to where Clint was awaiting the disposal. “Do whatever you do with your kids, Barton. This is ridiculous.”
> 
> “You’re going for a nap early.” Clint told Peter, “This sort of tantrum is unacceptable. Do you understand that?” 
> 
> He bounced the toddler encouragingly, expecting an adamant response. He got none. Rather, the boy seemed far more interested in playing with his own fingers, staring at them with wide and insolent wonder.
> 
> The man snapped in front of the boy’s face, catching his attention.
> 
> Clint smiled when Peter looked at him. “I asked you a question, bud. Now, naptime is gonna be early so you can learn to be nicer. Got it?”
> 
> “Hm?” Peter cocked his head. Tears could be seen forming in the boy’s eyes. Hot, angry tears that didn’t understand that hurting another person was wrong.
> 
> The man bounced him a few times. “Peter, you were misbehaving.” He explained, “Nobody wants to see you get violent. That’s wrong.”
> 
> The toddler shook his head. “No, I mad.” He cried, waterworks now freely flowing as he attempted to make grabby hands towards Tony.
> 
> Little escape artist.
> 
> Tony turned down the attempt, shaking his head. “No, Peter, you can’t get away with that. Do what Clint says so we don’t have to bring in the big guns.”
> 
> Nobody knew what the big guns were. Hell, Tony didn’t even know, but Peter certainly had imagined something awful, for he was soon looking at Clint with resignation.
> 
> Clint chuckled. “Well then, come along, you can take a nap. A long one. Then we can discuss before lunch. He informed Peter.
> 
> Wanda tried to give the boy a high five as they walked out, but Peter’s face had already burrowed deep into the crook of Clint’s neck.
> 
> “What’s _with_ that baby?” She asked as the boy was carted off, “Vis? Are children supposed to be that angry?”
> 
> Vision shrugged, quickly going off into some spiel about child psychology and unhealthy environments causing increased stress, whatever.
> 
> It would have been worth something if it wasn’t for the fact that Peter had stopped. The minute he knew he was in trouble he prepared himself for his nap.
> 
> That was not the child that had just nearly killed a super soldier. That was someone else entirely. A different child from the one that they had just unleashed. The very same different child that had sped through college math courses with ease. 
> 
> Something told them this wasn’t over.
> 
> This little shit would never be this calm for long.
> 
> He wasn’t safe to be around.
> 
> Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!


	17. Seventeenth Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony had to agree, really. “He’s fucking adorable.” He contended.
> 
> “Shh! Little ears.” Natasha barked hushedly, covering the boy’s head to protect his innocent brain from the swearing.
> 
> Tony laughed. “Can he hear us in his sleep?” He joked. Natasha simply rolled her eyes. “It’s a courtesy.”

“Night night...” Peter mumbled, all comfy cozy in his crib despite the occasional glares back at the team who filled the nursery with an uncomfortable amount of malice.

Pepper giggled. “No, baby, you’re just taking a nap. It’s not time for bed yet.” She explained.

Peter began fussing with the blankets when she attempted to pull them tighter, making soft little kicks as he loosened the adorable little crib sheets up. “Pe’er bad.” He claimed.

The woman eased and began to rub gentle circles onto the boy’s back, turning him over to face the crib bars. “You aren’t bad, honey. I promise.”

But that was a bit of a stupid thing to say, wasn’t it? 

This kid, this toddler, this baby didn’t care much what she thought. Not when everyone around him was making him feel alien, unwanted. 

Kids just want to be loved. Maybe it was baby fever, maybe she’d been begging Tony for a kid for too long to just ignore the addition of a beautiful little boy with Tony’s hair and her nose, but it was something more to her.

“‘epper?” Peter called, disturbing the woman’s thoughts.

She smiled down at him. “Yeah?” Pepper asked in response, resuming the gentle rubbing and massaging on his little back.

“Love you.”

Pepper felt blood rush at full speed to her cheeks. “I love you, too, sweetie. Now, let’s close our eyes for naptime and then we’ll have some pretzels with lunch. That sound yummy?”

The boy nodded sleepily, his eyes closing and unclosing rapidly before becoming latched shut. “Mhm. Pwetzel.” He murmured in a fatigued daze, before the calm of the word love allowed him the escape of dreamland.

Pepper held her breathe for one, two, three seconds until gently pressing a kiss to the boy’s temple and looking up to the rest of the group. “He’s out.” She whispered. 

“He told you he loved you.” Tony responded.

The woman chuckled softly. “Yeah? And?” She asked, guiding the adults out to the common room for a little less hush hush.

Tony continued blabbering nonstop, like a child coming to terms with death. “That’s... that’s...”

“I’d surely hope the boy I’m raising loves me.” Pepper exclaimed, running her hands over her chest in an attempt to soothe herself down.

She wasn’t going to freak out.

She wasn’t going to freak out.

She wasn’t going to freak out.

“Pep, you can’t seriously still be falling for this. He’s a little demon!” Steve insisted. 

Pepper rolled her eyes back at him. “He’s confused! Have you noticed that he doesn’t act like that around me? God, do you think he would ever attack me?”

“No, but-” Tony started, only to be quickly overtaken.

The woman squealed. “Exactly! He’s three, Tony. He loves whoever loves him back.” “I’m sorry, Pep, I didn’t-”

“Don’t bullshit me, Stark. He’s little, he doesn’t want to hate you, but you make him.” She accused, “Just, please. Stop this. All of you.” 

Steve started then. “Stop wh-” He began.

Pepper growled angrily. “This!” She insisted, gesturing wildly around the room as if that was going to add specificity.

She continued to moan and groan in absolute dismay. “This charade, this stupid act you’re all trying to pull. He can tell and he’s scared of it! Love him. Please.”

Wanda came closer to her as Pepper bursted into tears, accompanied by a begrudged Natasha who clearly did not know how to assist, but wanted to help nonetheless. “Please.” Natasha begged, an arm wrapped protectively around the sobbing friend beneath her.

A whine echoed from the hallway.

When they looked, there stood Peter, awake as could be.

Natasha stumbled up, her own face now wet with tears of remorse as she went over and plucked the boy from the floor. “Hey, buddy. What’s going on?”

“Loud.” Peter mumbled nearly incoherently.

Wanda echoed. “Loud?” She asked.

With a creak of the couch cushions, Vision stepped over the furniture to approach the boy- which was probably as to not scare him seeing as the guy was also a robot and could just faze through things.

He pressed a hand to Peter’s temple, speaking softly. “I believe the child has been awakened by our noise.” He pointed out.

“Oh, bud. Can you hear us from all the way in your bedroom?” Wanda asked. “Mhm. Yellin’.” Peter responded.

Steve’s face seemed to soften as the boy reached an arm towards Wanda, suddenly being embedded between the three women in yearn for a maternal figure. “Okay, okay. Did you do the... sticky thing? Is that how you got out of your crib?” He asked.

Peter startled, locking eyes with Natasha before quickly saying “Uh oh.”

“Looks like we’re gonna need a new set of crib bars.” Pepper laughed wetly, “That’s okay, Peter. Next time, just call and someone can come pick you up. Okay?”

The boy smiled widely, a toothy grin appropriate for a child of such a young age. “‘Kay.” He babbled. 

“Alright. How about you keep napping right here, yeah?” Natasha offered, taking a seat so that Peter could curl up on her lap.

The question fell on deaf ears, though, as Peter was off to dreamland on his own before she could speak.

Clint smiled down at the toddler in his best friend’s arms. “He’s cute when he sleeps.” He cooed, rubbing a thumb over the boy’s cheek.

Tony had to agree, really. “He’s fucking adorable.” He contended.

“Shh! Little ears.” Natasha barked hushedly, covering the boy’s head to protect his innocent brain from the swearing.

Tony laughed. “Can he hear us in his sleep?” He joked. Natasha simply rolled her eyes. “It’s a courtesy.”

He felt a chuckle rise up in his throat. “Courtesy is extended to brats?” He asked, before quickly jumping the gun as Pepper’s face turned cold as stone. “That’s a term of endearment! If you can’t reach the top of the kitchen counter, you’re a brat in my book.”

“Courtesy is extended to everyone.” Pepper scolded.

A moment passed, as Clint stared at the sleeping figure, examining every snore and snuffle. “He looks like Cooper did at that age.”

Tony looked aroung wildly, searching for any other option. “I’m still not sure about this.” He muttered.

Natasha and Wanda jumped at the chance to speak their own opinions, the sweet little toddler still cuddling away in Natasha’s lap as Pepper smiled from a distance. “I am.”

Vision agreed temptatiously. “It would be the best option.”

“I honestly don’t think I’ll ever be able to not see Cooper in this kid’s face again, so what do I have to lose?” Clint joked.

Steve smiled. “If Clint’s onboard, he’d dragging me with him.”

The billionaire huffed. “We’re really gonna give up on getting rid of this little shit?” He asked, crossing his arms in a last ditch act of defiance. “No more half-assery? No more baby-less fun?”

“Tony. Please. Look at him.” Natasha jostled the boy lightly in her arms, turning so that his face was right in the man’s view.

Tony took one deep breath. “If he so much as touches my Armani this all goes down the drain, you hear?”


	18. By The Eighteenth Peace Symbol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony’s face appeared in the doorway. “Hey there, kid. There’s a storm a’comin.” He said, “As cool as that camping game must be, we need to head downstairs now. Heights and storms aren’t really a good mix.”
> 
> “El’ctri’ty.” Peter mumbled, taking Tony’s hand and Wanda’s as they traveled down the hall and into the emergency elevator.

It had been six months since Peter got brought to this place.

He knew that because Tony told him this morning. 

He liked Tony now, kinda. Tony knew lots of cool things and let Peter play in his big big big big big big big big _big_ lab last week. Which was why Peter had decided Tony was his favorite boy grownup.

Peter would have said Steve was his favorite boy grownup, but he didn’t have anything cool unless they were doing training, which Peter still hated.

He liked Steve when Steve did play, but training always came first. Because Steve was “patient”. Which was a lie because yesterday Peter got in trouble for crying over climbing the rope.

_Hmph_. “Patient”.

And Clint was... well... Clint was weird. Peter likes the wall much more then the vents. The vents are stuffy and make his tummy hurt.

He isn’t allowed to go play in the vents anymore.

Bucky was okay, not great. Peter supposed he still had a ven-det-uh against Bucky and Wanda after they tried to trick him. He wasn’t stupid, after all.

Wanda was also on “thin ice”. That’s what Tony said. Peter was gonna watch _her_ too.

Pepper said that it was all the Avengers’ fault, and not just Wanda and Bucky, but Peter didn’t much care. He was mad.

Even if these new grownups wasn’t that nice at first, things had gotten better.

Not perfect, clearly, but Peter didn’t think perfect was real. If perfect was real, Pepper would be perfect. And Pepper wasn’t perfect. 

She didn’t even give Peter a cookie for dinner last night! And he begged!

Tasha was nice- and had a convenient nickname that Peter had come up with all by himself. She would tell people when they started to be mean again, and they stopped. 

She was pretty cool. 

And scary.

Mostly scary- but like, in a cool way. That made sense, right?

Really, Peter was feeling a lot better now. He could even say his address! 

Well, in a way. 

He could tell people he lived at 777 Brewer Lane. Which wasn’t his real address, but that was where Tony’s guy- what had his name been back when Peter met him? Elijah!- lived.

Was Elijah even technically a human if he worked this hard? Elijah needed more money!

Wait, if Tony had so much money, why were there people asking for it all the time? Couldn’t Tony share? 

These were all very important questions for the three-year-old’s little mind.

Elijah had pinky promised to take Peter back to the tower if anything happened, and pinky promises were very very very very _very_ important.

So, where was he? Hmmmm... 

“Peter? Come out of that fort, boy!” Wanda called, coming into the very dark room with a very bright flashlight that made Peter’s stargazing adventure look stupid.

The fairy lights strung around the room by Steve’s very tall figure were the best stars ever, and the tent-fort was a good substitute for an actual tent.

Why didn’t anyone want to go camping with him for real? That would be fun. But something something Clint and something something banned meant they couldn’t go to the campground.

The boy poked his head out from his blanket fort, running through the stream of light to grab Wanda’s legs.

As the fabric brushed across his legs, Peter thought about how, if they ever really wen camping, he would probably like to be in a camper instead. 

Tents felt all weird.

Tony’s face appeared in the doorway. “Hey there, kid. There’s a storm a’comin.” He said, “As cool as that camping game must be, we need to head downstairs now. Heights and storms aren’t really a good mix.”

“El’ctri’ty.” Peter mumbled, taking Tony’s hand and Wanda’s as they traveled down the hall and into the emergency elevator.

Woosh they went, down down down untik Peter’s tummy felt all jumbly.

Entering the space, Peter found most of the team gathered already, save for Pepper who was probably being her own kind of superhero and getting the people who worked on the lower floors to safety.

Peter could imagine the ginger woman rushing others out a door, checking the weather constantly in fear of their lives over her own.

_See?_ Pepper was the coolest.

Even Vision was down there, which Peter found kind of silly because Vision would probably be just fine if there was a storm.

Then again, Peter wasn’t a robot, so what did he know?

“Hey, little man.” Clint greeted, “You gotta hide in here with us, okay?” He explained. Of course Peter understood, but he nodded along politely nonetheless.

Bucky coughed a little. “How about I read you something?” He offered, leaning over at his spot on the raggedy old basement couch so his arms rested on his thighs.

Peter cocked his head. “Books?” He asked, before glancing around the not-library.

The man smiled. “Yeah, we could do- oh.”

Stebe laughed, punching Bucky humorously on his arm. “Idiot.” He said, which made Peter a little angry. “Bad word.” The boy reminded. If he got in trouble for calling Wanda an idiot last week, Steve should get in trouble too. 

Bucky glared at Steve playfully. “How about I tell you a story from memory then?” He said, turning back to Peter.

On some strange instinct, Peter sat down criss cross applesauce, and looked expectantly at the other man. “Steve tell?” He requested.

“No, Bucky wants to tell you.” Steve insisted.

Hmph. “Kay.” Peter hummed, turning again so he could face Bucky.

“Okay, so this one time, some tiny little twig kid came up to me. I knew this guy, keep in mind. And his shoes look so weird. Turns out he was hiding newspapers in those things-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!


	19. A Nineteenth Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper shook her head, waving a vague hand through the air to cease his oncoming ramble. “You don’t need to tell me.”
> 
> “I don’t?”
> 
> “Tony...” Pepper sighed, patting her fiancée on the back as she sat down next to him. “You may be the smartest man on earth, but you and your friends are all idiots.”
> 
> The man brought a hand to his chest in a comedic faux gasp, laughing lightly as he pretended to take offence. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not dead! sorry babes i got ✨writers block✨ but im back now

“I don’t know if I’m ready.” Tony mumbled, looking off as Peter paid vacant attention to the squabbling of Bucky and Steve in the small basement room. 

Pepper chuckled. “For?” She asked in confusion.

Tony shrugged. He didn’t really know, not well enough to say anything.

He resigned, thinking back to the date. August was nearly among them, and once it hit they would have less than a fortnight to prepare for festivities. Peter’s first.

The man had never had a birthday party asa little boy, not unless you counted the ones that were heavily staged for press purposes, a way for his father to flaunt their wealth and status.

He never got gifts or anything, just an hour of smiling for pictures and eating cake. The cake was good, though. 

Never one to let a conversation die, the man continued. “Well, he’ll be having a birthday soon.” He commented, choosing that road to die on. 

“You’re ready, trust me.” Pepper responded dutifully.

He questioned her then.

Tony never questioned his fiancée, his one and only. The woman he would live and die for, he never questioned her brilliance even in the worst of disasters.

He was questioning her now.

The man shrugged. “I’m not.” He commended, disagreeing but not snapping. He loved her too much for that.

So, Pepper smiled. “What’s so scary?” She asked.

A while passed of radio silence, Tony’s face blank and vacant as though it was replaced with stone.

“I think I love that kid.”

“You’re joking.” Pepper deadpanned.

“No, like- I think I love that kid. You were right. These last few months have been...”

Pepper shook her head, waving a vague hand through the air to cease his oncoming ramble. “You don’t need to tell me.”

“I don’t?”

“Tony...” Pepper sighed, patting her fiancée on the back as she sat down next to him. “You may be the smartest man on earth, but you and your friends are all idiots.”

The man brought a hand to his chest in a comedic faux gasp, laughing lightly as he pretended to take offence. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She laughed back. “He’s three, Tony. He’ll be four before you know it. His mind is fresh and bounces back easily.”

Tony stalled.

“Do you think he’ll hate us when he’s older?”

“No.”

He sighed. A long, painful sigh. “Good.” He said.

Pepper chuckled, waving him off. “Good. Now go play with the kid, he’s getting bored of the war stories.”

Just as he was standing, barely a foot away from his woman and eyes set straight on the prize: the boy that was slowly winning him over more and more each day, Tony heard Pepper behind him. “It looks good on you, you know.”

“What?” Tony snapped in confusion.

The woman peered and smirked. “The Dad look. It’s fitting.” She said.

Moreover, he was feeling decidedly paternal.“I’m not his dad. He doesn’t even like me.” He commented, voicing his fears aloud.

Late but not too late, Pepper chuckled just right. Gentle as a bird in the night sky. “Not yet. But you’re a stubborn man, I think you can figure something out.”

“You think so?” Tony asked, slightly appalled at the reasoning. She wasn’t wrong, he knew that to be true, but that didn’t make her right.

The woman smirked. “I know so.”

Tony chuckled lightly at the tease. He knew he had picked this one to marry for good reason, more so than that of her beauty and wit. She was something special. “Thanks, Pep.”

Pepper smiled widely, bright teeth shining in the dim yellow lighting of the sheltered space, roaring thunder still baring overhead. “Love you.” She whispered.

“Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!!!!


	20. A Note (sorry)

Okay

So this is my fault

I accidentally skipped ahead in the plot and posted a chapter significantly earlier than I should have, having gotten the drafts switched up and not reading before posting

For those of you that read it, I’m sorry for literally spoiling my own story (though, I’m sure we all know where this plot is going)

The correct chapter will be up soon and replace this one

Apologies, again


End file.
